


Living Dreams and Nightmares

by Goldenpetal13



Series: Dreams and Nightmares [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst, Dream!Pack, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 47
Words: 80,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenpetal13/pseuds/Goldenpetal13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU – Set months after the end of Season 2 Stiles’ life had spiralled out of control to the point where it was easier on everyone around him if he just left, he tried to find a place that was werewolf free, except it turns out there are more werewolves in the world than you’d think, and he’s still the damn Omega. But it’s hard to out run your past, especially when it comes hunting you. Begins end of October of Stiles’ Junior year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rules changes of this AU. Sixteen is both the age of consent and the age kid’s are legally considered adults though most stay in high school until eighteen before going to college.
> 
> Warnings: Non con (throughout), domestic violence, abusive relationships, excess angst, thin plot (squint and it might be there), non con smut, generally being evil to Stiles. Oh and both Peter and Stiles will go OOC as they attempt to get along with each other (plus the traumas Stiles has gone through have changed him).
> 
> Unbetaed work. And I will be explaining what happened, but later on, and yes the chapters will all be short.

“Stiles,” Oren’s voice calls out the moment I step over the threshold of the tiny apartment we share in Sacramento.  Of course he’s a werewolf so it means he could probably hear me walking up the stairs.

 

Nervously I go over the last few days in my head, I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset him.  “Yes Oren?” I call out being as friendly as I can.

 

A blond head pops around the door to the bedroom and smiles at me.  He’s gorgeous, he really is, all chiselled cheekbones stunning violet eyes, floppy blond hair, so beautiful and he should so be a model.  He’s also a werewolf and prone to bouts of violence, bouts that leave my body peppered with bruises on far too many occasions.  “Get changed, I’m taking you out to dinner, nowhere too fancy, but I got the promotion and they back dated my pay.”

 

“Dude, that’s awesome,” I grin at him, he’s been trying to get the promotion since I ran into him and he’d dragged me into his home against my will after he fought and killed Brad the werewolf that had me last.  “They finally decided you were doing all the work then?”

 

“Yeah,” he nods bashfully, “Turns out Roberts left all the paperwork in his desk drawer and didn’t do anything with it, it’ll mean I have to work late for a while,” he shrugs, “But once the backlog is cleared it should be smooth sailing again.”

 

“Cool,” and I’m really happy.  Because not only does he deserve that promotion, having busted his balls trying to get it, but a happy werewolf is a less free with his fists werewolf, and that means I’m less bruised too.

 

“So how was school,” he calls out.

 

“Okay I guess. I aced my test, got more homework, and hung out in the library a lot.”  I hang out in the library way too much, I daren’t make any friends, I’ll only drag them down with me like I did Scott.

 

Pushing away the guilt of that thought I hop in the shower and obediently get dressed to go out.  Strange how quickly I learnt to obey Brad when I was with him, it could have something to do with the belt he used repeatedly on me.  I still haven’t learnt to shut up though and Oren is more patient with me than Brad ever was.

 

Dinner is a nice upmarket restaurant.  It’s not somewhere I’d normal go, we even get a waiter and a wine menu.  Oren doesn’t drink and I need to keep my wits about me to stay on his good side.

 

My chicken is nice, Oren’s steak is cooked to perfection, the overall rating is good.  I already know from his actions that he expects sex from me tonight.  Not a major hardship, he’s been quick to accept and apply the stretch Stiles before penetration rule.  He even accepts the fact that I don’t get hard or orgasm when we have sex, he doesn’t blame me for it, he doesn’t punish me for it, so it’s fine.

 

Brad used to punish me for my lack of orgasms, which unsurprisingly lead to me having problems with getting any orgasms.  I shouldn’t be glad he’s dead but I am.

 

When Brad had originally found me I was running away from my old pack, I was sick of being the Omega, being pushed around, used, I didn’t realise how good I had it there.  I’d go back to Derek’s pack in a heartbeat if I thought they’d take me.

 

Of course Brad was right when he first caught me.  I was an Omega then, I’m still an Omega now and no one’s going to want me, especially after I was used so thoroughly by Brad.  I’m soiled goods, ruined and useless to any pack.

 

Oren’s much nicer than Brad, far more understanding and willing to give me space.  I’m not sure why he was kicked out of his pack to become a vagabond Omega but he says I help him remember to be human, I’m not a true anchor for him like Allison is to Scott but I’m much better than nothing.

 

He’s laughing at a joke I make as we walk up the stairs to our door.  We get in and then he’s running his hand over my ass, I smile at him and nod.  I don’t really have a choice, but this illusion of consent is better than nothing, better than being slammed into a wall by Brad and having my pants pulled off me by force.

 

Locking up, we hurry to the bedroom.  Undressing I go on all fours in the middle of our bed.  The drawer rattles and I hear the lube pop.  Cold and slippery fingers run over the crease of my ass and I close my eyes.

 

Zoning out I ignore the finger broaching me, I don’t fight the intrusion that only brings me pain, instead I remember better times.

 

I’m running in the woods with Scott, we’re fourteen, he’s wheezing and laughing and the only things we have to be afraid of are getting home late because his mom will yell and my dad will yell.  I’m happy there.  We find a clearing and spin in circles until we’re so dizzy we can’t stand up anymore and fall to the ground the world tilting crazily around us.

 

That memory keeps me occupied as Oren adds a second finger, the third finger burns a little and I turn to another memory.

 

I’m sitting in my dad’s police cruiser with food between us.  We’re just talking.  I don’t even remember what we talked about, probably his diet, school, me not breaking things, his work, sometimes I think of things that help him break cases, sometimes his scanner goes off and we race to a crime scene.  I always keep my memories of those times with dad set long before the werewolf madness swept the town, less dead bodies that way.

 

“Hmm, is that enough?” Oren asks breaking the spell.

 

Moving his fingers inside of me he lets me gauge it and I nod, “Yeah Oren, that’s enough.”

 

“Yes,” his voice is happy and then the lube is going again.

 

Refocusing I pull together my favourite fantasy and wait as patiently as I can for Oren to push his cock into my ass.  He thrusts a few times to be sure I’m okay and then he’s off chasing his climax and I chase my stupid teenage dreams.

 

In my head I have a montage of images and motion pictures.  I lose myself in them and the creak of the bed fades away to be replaced by dark hair and green eyes that flash either electric blue or alpha red.  He snarls at me, he pushes me into walls and doors, he keeps me safe, he holds me.  He takes my virginity when I offer it to him, though I had to stalk him for a few weeks into giving in to me.

 

I daydream about telling him the truth, how I’m in love with him, me a stupid little human Omega in love with an Alpha.  God how much of an idiot was I?  In my daydreams he tells me loves me too, he tells me how strong I am, how he needs me in his life, in his pack, how he’s not good with words…

 

… Our bodies do the talking for us, I’m so glad he was my first.  He leaves me gifts, I bake him cookies.  He gives me intense stares, I babble at him.  He holds me and I hold him back…

 

And in reality Oren is nearly finished so I tighten my ass and then he’s coming with a partial howl.  I used to love this part, the part where my ass got filled up with Derek’s cum.  Now it’s simply endured.  In the morning I’ll shower and I’ll try not feel anything when it’s washed down the drain.

 

My teenage dreams have turned into a living waking nightmare.

 

Oren collapses to the bed beside me and I fall forwards, twisting to get under the covers, I lay there and let myself slip into dreams of an earlier happier life, it’s the only escape I have from my normal day to day existence.


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm beeping wakes me up and I slither out of bed to use the shower.  Washing myself clean I ignore the gunk that comes out of my ass and has dried around that area in the night.

 

I have to fall back on happier memories of lying in Derek’s bed to get me through the cleaning of that particular area.  I remember how Derek would help me wash, considering the guy was using me for sex and was very vigorous in the physical stuff, he never stinted on the aftercare.

 

My dream Derek is here now and his hands are big, rough, and don’t leave bruises on my body, the only ones he ever left me were on my hips right at the end when we’d both climax.

 

Stepping out of the shower I can see my naked body out of the corner of my eye.  There are large bruises everywhere.  Oren at least has a better handle on his temper than Brad, but he still lashes out and I trace the big bruise on my side, it’s a lovely shade of black and blue with tinges of green.  Hiding my sigh I dry myself off and shave, I have to be careful of my lip area as one side is slightly swollen from a stray fist, it hadn’t bled too much so my t-shirt at the time wasn’t ruined.

 

Once I’m dressed I make breakfast and I enjoy this part.  I used to attempt cooking for dad, and then when I totally fucked up so dad and me argued until I wasn’t his son anymore, I ended up cooking for Derek and the Betas, that makes me smile every single time.  Derek and the Betas would make an awesome band name.

 

Dishing up Oren’s breakfast just as he walks out of the bedroom is a skill I learnt from Brad.  Get the timing right and walk away, get it wrong and bleed.

 

Washing up afterwards I wish Oren luck at work, swallow some Adderall, then I’m running for the school bus.  It’s weird how I can be sixteen and an adult in the eyes of the law but still have to go to school while attempting to keep a roof over my head, feed myself and not fail at my grades.  I still can’t legally drink or vote but I can get married, have sex and rent my own apartment.  Totally fucked up system.

 

The Government at least have worked out that school kids who get kicked out at sixteen can’t work full time and if we go to school we get this minimum pay thing paid to us, turn up at school and get paid as if you were at work.  It helps and means I can contribute towards the bills, though I’m saving like crazy for college, I know it’s not enough money but if I can just get into a college, maybe with a partial scholarship, I can get away from Oren in a way that he can’t hunt me down and slaughter me for.

 

As soon as I’m off the bus the damn guidance councillor is waiting for me and tries to guilt trip me into reading a bunch of pamphlets about domestic abuse and ways for the victim to escape it.  They’re more practical than I thought they’d be, none of this stand up for yourself crap, it’s more long term planning, gathering evidence so you can get a restraining order, how you can find accommodation, a job, schooling for any kids.

 

Not once does it blame the victim for getting into that situation in the first place, and it doesn’t make light of what the victim goes through.  What it doesn’t cover is how to get out of a domestic abuse relationship if the abuser is a werewolf who can track you across town and rip your throat out.

 

“Stiles,” she gives me a sympathetic smile, “Please, please, really look at these, and feel free to leave them in my office so Oren can’t see them,” you come to school looking like a mugging gone wrong often enough and people do start to take notice.

 

“Thanks,” I wave them at her, “I will.”

 

And then I stiffen as the hairs on the back of my neck go up and I start looking around frantically for Oren, because that’s what it’s like to be caught in a werewolf’s gaze when they’re hunting you.

 

“I have to go,” I babble at her and run for the school.  My bruises pull and my ass protests but at least I’ll be alive. 

 

In the school I get strange looks and the other kids whisper at me.  When I first ran away from Beacon Hills I’d started at this high school’s summer school program and gotten my credits transferred, I’d had to do a few shifts a week at the local Wal Mart but the discount I got helped stretch my money out.  Then Brad had turned up and I turned into the walking wounded, the number of times the cops got called or I ended up taking a trip to the ER because of him was not funny, at that point the whispers started up.

 

Oren saved me from Brad but took me for his own and the Coach and kids all stare at me in the locker room when we do gym class.  The only good thing about it is I can fake not feeling well and can go sit in the nurse’s office if things in my head get too bad.

 

Mostly I get by in this nightmare my life has become by daydreaming about my better life before I destroyed it.  Walking down the halls I imagine Scott and Allison are next to me and a smile tugs on my face, I miss them but dream Scott and dream Allison are laughing at a joke and they’re happy, which only reminds me that the real Scott and Allison are happier without me wrecking their lives.

 

Dream Scott and dream Allison are awesome so I can totally hang out with them and I sit at my desk listening to them coo like lovesick lovebirds.  I used to feel so left out when they did that, I never appreciated how they put up with me and let me stick around them at school, I was upset at Scott for turning all his attention on her, god I was so stupid.

 

School is boring and I have to fight my ADHD to concentrate, then I hole up in the library after I’ve eaten at lunch.  Curled up on a comfy sofa I read mythology and wonder how much of it’s real and how much of it’s a story.

 

My last lesson is gym class and god I hate this one.  We have to go out and its freezing out there, it’s running though and I’m good at running, I’ve had plenty of practice.  The Coach wants me on the track team but I always say no and he doesn’t push.

 

There’s a course laid out for us to follow and it’s easy, no one’s tying to eat me so I can enjoy stretching my legs and not face planting in the mud.  Going through the part in the small copse of trees by the edge of the field I sense I’m being watched again.

 

I’m way ahead of the other kids and I slow down to a stand still.  Not even breathing hard I search the undergrowth looking for the tell tale sign of glowing eyes.  Nothing.  But I know there’s someone or something there.

 

“Oren?” I call out wondering if it’s him, in which case he’s being a serious dick to me.  A bush barely moves but I know who, or what, is in, or behind that bush, “Oren?” I step closer and curse my curiosity, “Dude? Seriously you’re weirding me out here.  Did you need to me to stop and grab something for you on the way home?  And shouldn’t you be at work?  You only just got the promotion…”

 

Silence and I’m fairly sure that it’s not Oren.  Nervously I back up a step and a low growl that seems so damn familiar for some reason starts up.  It’s stupid to run but I do anyway, but then that’s me, if it’s stupid then I’ll do it.

 

Pounding out the other side of the trees I run around the last of the course and this time I don’t hold back, I want distance between me and that, whatever it is. Somehow I know it’s here for me, and only me, but I still count all the kids back in, no one is missing, it was probably just a dog and even I don’t believe the lie I just told myself.

 

Scurrying home I make it safely into the apartment and cook dinner, I eat it alone and do my homework eyeing up the full trash bin and debating taking it down now or later.  Oren had said he’d be late but this is ridiculous, and when he staggers in the door his eyes are glowing amber and I reheat his dinner for him and rub his shoulders.

 

“Stupid fucking promotion,” he growls and eats.  “Why the fuck did I want it?”

 

“Today didn’t go so great then,” I find some knots in his back and tease them out, if I can calm him down in time I’ll be all right.

 

Of course when I’m nervous I babble, “Tomorrow should be better though, and you said when you caught up with the work things would settle down, I know you Oren, I know you’ll get the mistakes Roberts made fixed,” it seems to be calming him down.

 

Under my hands his shoulders flex and he twists around his eyes and face wolfing out on me, and I know what’s coming next. He pulls all his blows so he doesn’t kill me and he’s so fast I don’t see most of them coming, lastly the wall hits my back as he throws me into it.  Crashing onto the floor I curl up and wait.

 

“I’m going out,” he grunts and the door slams.

 

Counting slowly to one hundred I stay where I am and only then do I move.  Wincing at the new bruises flaring to life on my body I crawl to the freezer and put a couple of ice packs on my face.  Red drops land on my hand, “Fuck,” I curse and check the damage in the reflection of the microwave’s glass.  It’s not that bad, he hasn’t broken my nose or split my lip too much.

 

The dizziness retreats and I attempt to stand up.  There’s the odd moment where I think I’m going to faint but I push through it.  Cleaning up I throw most of his dinner out and then I stare at the trash can and go back to debating leaving it for the morning, except if Oren comes home tonight and the place stinks of refuse he’ll lose his temper again.

 

Snagging the trash I take my time going down the stairs and into the dark alleyway.  Damn, it normally doesn’t scare me but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.  If it’s Oren he’ll leave me alone, if it’s another stray Omega I smell enough like Oren that it should leave me alone.

 

Wrapping myself in a memory of Derek I walk into the dark and over to the bins.  My shoulder’s killing me but I lift the lid and get the trash up there.  Dream Derek is leaning on the metal near me and is giving me a patented scowl, this one is telling how dumb I am to do this now instead of waiting.

 

I make it out of the alleyway in one piece and up the stairs to my door, only then does a low growl echo up from the bottom of the stairs, the stairs that did have a light on when I passed them just now, the stairs that are now in darkness.

 

Bolting into the apartment I close and lock the door, another dumb move, werewolves can burst straight though it, or any of the windows.  Hurriedly I pull the blinds down.  Sometimes ignorance can be bliss, and I’m happy to pretend there’s not a problem, to lie to myself and tell myself it was a stray dog, except dogs can’t take light bulbs out.

 

A few painkillers later and I sprawl on the bed wondering when Oren will be back and if he’ll be successful at tracking down this new Omega.  Tossing and turning I strain to hear every little sound, but if a werewolf doesn’t want me to hear them I won’t.

 

Rolling onto my side I sigh and dream Isaac wraps a brotherly arm around me, when Derek wasn’t there at night I would sleep with Isaac, he never did anything to me, just held me.  Isaac was one of the few I thought might occasionally like me hanging around.

 

Isaac’s breathing is steady and even, it lulls me to sleep, this is one of my most peaceful daydreams, I cherish this one so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving this story a chance and accepting my somewhat OOC Stiles, it's hard to write him as Stiles and broken at the same time.

The alarm beeping wakes me up and Oren leans over me to turn it off, I blink sleepily at him and he grimaces, “Fuck, Stiles, I’m so sorry about last night, I know the full moon isn’t for another three days, I should have better control than that.”

 

He’s always sorry.

 

He doesn’t change his behaviour though, and I smile and nod at him acting like I’ve accepted his apology, I haven’t, because he doesn’t really mean it.  The trick to lying to werewolves is to dodge and tell a different truth.  I’ve been reading up on fairies and the wee folk, if they’re real then they’re the fathers of lawyers, the slippery little buggers would tell the truth but in such a way that it wasn’t the whole truth or the truth to your questions.  Never make a deal with a fairy, because all you get are fairy bumpkus and a serious case of being screwed over.

 

“Go shower, I’ll make breakfast,” I tell him and he smiles that gorgeous smile.

 

Moving stiffly I make him his breakfast and use the shower after him, I don’t bother eating but I do take my Adderall and grab my school things as I go to the school bus.

 

At the bottom of the stairs is the maintenance guy who’s muttering about kids and pranks and he’s screwing in a new light bulb.  The sensation of being watched is strong as I stand at the bus stop, it continues all the way to school as the kids all stare at me and I blank it out with dream Scott who morphs into dream Erika, “Seriously, I get that being broody is all Batman like, but come on Stiles, plan better,” she leans back showing off her chest again, “We both know you can do better,” and then she’s gone.

 

Awesome.

 

Just what I didn’t need, an Erika pep talk, my subconscious hates me.

 

Milling kids at school are an obstacle I try and wind my way through, a few of them step into me and I wince in pain as they hit my new bruises.  I’m barely through the door when a teacher catches sight of me and I’m sent to the nurse’s office.

 

The nurse means well and she checks out all my new injuries tutting the whole time, “You know I have to report these don’t you,” she says that every time.

 

“I know,” I accept it and if Oren was human I’d have quite the case building up against him, a case I could use to get him out of my life, but he’s not human and if I used it against him I’d either vanish and be dead or turn up a mangled dead corpse, basically dead though, the exact location of my body is the only variable.

 

“Fine, I’m going to the Principal’s to get this all documented and sent off. You,” she wags a finger at me, “Will stay here and rest, I’ll get you excused from your first few lessons.”

 

“’Kay,” I didn’t think my injuries were that bad but I lay back and close my eyes.  She pulls the curtain across screening me from the door and then I hear her footsteps click further and further away.

 

Wiggling to get comfy I don’t think I’m going to sleep but my brain is cooperating for once and I start to doze off.

 

A lack of noise wakes me up and I jerk my head up to stare at the curtains near the base of the bed.  That watching hunted sensation is back and I stare at the human shaped shadow that’s looming closer and closer on the other side of the curtain.

 

I blink as my eyes burn and it breaks the panic I’ve been stuck in, frantically I look around the room but other than the bed there’s nothing here, nothing I can use as a weapon, no handy powdered wolfsbane.

 

The silhouette of a hand reaches out to the edge of the curtain and I can hear myself start to pant as I draw my feet up getting ready to duck and run.  If I can make it out into the corridor screaming my head off I might be able to survive this.

 

And then the person on the other side turns their head so I can see the profile, they tilt their head as if listening and then they’re gone.  The noise of the nurse’s shoes click on the floor coming nearer and I struggle to get my breathing under control.

 

She putters around the office and I doze off a little as I wonder why the profile looked so damn familiar, what was it about whoever it was that terrified me that much?

 

Shaking it off I make it through the day and ride the bus home, that same watched sensation picking up at my bus stop and following me to the apartment.

 

Oren’s already waiting for me when he should be at work, “Hey,” he slinks over to me, “Look, I really am sorry, so how about we go shopping, and afterwards we’ll grab some drive through?”

 

We’re getting low on food and I have no desire to go out there on my own so I put my books away and let him lead me down the stairs and to his car.  The whole time the spot between my shoulder blades itches and he’s not twitching in the slightest.  That’s weird.  Oren’s really good at spotting rogue Omegas, so either the werewolf is better than Oren, not a good thought, or I’m even more paranoid than I realised, also not a good thought.

 

Wandering around the supermarket and mentally checking things off of my list I daydream about Scott’s mom.  She helpfully points out some handy bargains and I remember tips she gave me as I pushed the cart for her when I was much younger.  Even then I had the attention span of a gnat and she turned it into a game to keep me interested, poor Scott never understood it, but we both enjoyed the piece of candy at the end.

 

For once Oren volunteers to get the car and takes a few bags with him.  I watch him jog away up into the multistory and sulk about werewolf healing abilities and stamina.  Standing outside the supermarket I stay close to the entrance and the lights not trusting the darkness in the slightest.

 

Planning our meals for the rest of the week I shift from foot to foot and then glare up at the parking lot.  Damn it he is taking his time.  Glancing up at the big clock outside the supermarket, I give him another ten minutes in case he’s wolfing down something sugary, he does have a sweet tooth, and then it’s been over twelve minutes and I know something’s wrong.

 

Briefly I toy with the idea of going back inside and sending someone else up there to go and find him but I can’t risk other people getting hurt, I really wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I deliberately sent someone into harms way.

 

Clutching my bags to my chest I start the lonely, rather creepy, walk into the place and we’re parked on the third floor.  Around and around I go and I’m as silent as I can be.  I check to see the security cameras are working and they are so I breathe a bit easier at that.

 

Peeking around the third floor ramp I try and see if Oren is anywhere to be seen.  He’s not.  Edging up the ramp I know his car is parked right at the far end on the left.

 

Moving to the top of the ramp I can feel those eyes on me again and I glance up to see the camera is trained on me right now, it’s the same as being in a crowded place, no werewolf would dare attack me where there are cameras because that would bring the hunters down on their furry little asses.

 

Oh my god I now live in a world where I’m glad there are hunters.

 

Taking a few steps forward I stop and try and work out if it’s hunters I’ve been sensing following me and then shake my head, no, there’s something else to the feeling and the fact I’m not healing would make them pause.  Okay so they’d only pause if they actually followed the code, but the same rule of the camera applies and I inch forward.

 

There’s a strange click whirling coming from the camera and I frown as I try and see to the end of the parking bays. I stop again and I track the lights with my eyes, there should be three lights at the bottom and they’re not there.

 

The image of the camera flashes in my mind and the click whirl is where someone has jammed the camera so it can’t turn.  I’m betting the same has been done to the camera at that far end, that or someone’s destroyed it completely.

 

That burning itch between my shoulder blades is at a fever pitch and I have to clear my throat before I say, “You’re standing right behind me, aren’t you.”

 

A soft chuckle from right behind me is my only answer and I know that chuckle from somewhere, it makes the bags fall from my nerveless fingers and my groceries crash to the ground.

 

Spinning in a circle I can see he’s standing only foot away from me and he’s smiling at me, “Hello Stiles,” he greets me politely.

 

“Peter,” I’m surprised my voice is so steady and I stare into his blue eyes wondering how long he’ll take to kill me and praying I don’t scream like a girl while he does it.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh my god.  I’m standing in front of Peter fucking Hale.  Alpha crazy psycho nutjob.  And I may have helped kill him once and helped to try to kill him another time.

 

He’s the kind of nutjob that can carry a grudge all the way out of the grave and back into life.  Frozen I stare at him and he’s why I recognised the growling, it was him.  He’s why I recognised the profile, it was him.  And my Erika moment makes sense, my subconscious was telling me to think and work it out not hand myself to him on a plate in a deserted parking garage.

 

His eyes are blue, not red, he looks calm, he’s not wolfing out and trying to rip my throat out and I can’t stay quiet for long anyway, “You look well,” I tell him and he does, he always does.  Even when he’s covered in blood, gore and dirt he tends to look good, and here he’s clean and well dressed.

 

“Thank you,” he smiles that urbane smile that hides the psycho-ness really well.  “You don’t.”

 

Well that was just rude and I glare at him, the best I can do is get a few verbal jabs in before he kills me so I cross my arms and snipe, “I pay you a compliment and you kick me while I’m down, not cool,” it earns me a quirked eyebrow, another werewolf trait that comes with the bite, “I’m aware that I’m not that great to look at, but you could have just lied, it’s not like I have freaky werewolf super senses to tell me when you do that.”

 

A head tilt and a quizzical look from him and I’m back to carrying the conversation, “Seriously if you came all this way to tell me I’m unattractive, too scrawny, too unpretty then please just kill me now and I can become another teen statistic that wasn’t good enough for the world.”

 

I think I’ve confused him and he asks, “Excuse me?”

 

“What?” Is my witty comeback and if he gives me a few more minutes I’ll have a better one, probably as I run back down towards the entrance and possible escape.

 

“I’m confused, you said that I called you unattractive while I was simply replying that you do not look well, you’re clearly injured and tired.  That is not the definition of well,” he says studying me.

 

“Um…” Well now I’m confused.  “Oh? So, just not being in good health then? Okay I can live with that.”  I’m not touching the unattractive thing right now.

 

“Good,” and he’s back to smiling at me, it’s kinda creepy on his face, especially as I know what he can turn into and he’s chased me around at night in Beacon Hills high school wanting to get Scott to chow down on me.

 

I let the silence stretch out for about twenty seconds and then I crack, “So… It was nice seeing you again,” I know that one’s a lie and he will too, “Let’s not do this again and I’ll not see you around.  Bye Peter.”

 

“Actually Stiles how about you don’t try and walk away from me and I won’t do something you’ll regret,” and that’s one of the most annoying things he does, his voice is normal when he does the big scary threats.  At least Derek’s voice gets all growly and gravely and hot.  Peter’s so calm its uber creepy and I’m using the word creepy far too much right now.

 

“What do you want Peter? It’s a school night and you already know where I go to school because you stalked me there like the creeper wolf you are.  And I’ve not eaten yet tonight and I really want to go to sleep, so please enlighten me on why you’ve set this up,” I wave my arms at the whole parking lot thing and hope my death is fairly quick.

 

“Stiles,” Peter’s smile is fond and I’m way past creeped out at this point. There’s no rescue coming for me this time, I’m all alone.

 

Other dots in my head connect and I swallow dryly, “Oren’s dead isn’t he,” it’s not a question and the man in front of me gives me a pained look and nods, “Oh god, I’m next, aren’t I,” again it’s not a question.

 

“No,” he seems genuinely shocked.  “Why would I kill you?”

 

The only other thing I can think of is, “I still don’t want the bite from you, it’s way more trouble than it’s worth.”

 

“Okay,” and he’s agreeing with me.

 

I’m officially out of my depth now, I have no idea what he could possibly want from me, I’m not a werewolf, I don’t have access to everything I used to, I can’t even research that much as I have a job I need to go to in order to get the cash for college.

 

Life has slowly taught me some self-preservation skills and I don’t know how to phrase my question about what he wants in such a way he doesn’t simply rip my throat out.  See I can occasionally kept quiet, but I know it won’t last long enough, I’m going to say something stupid soon.

 

Sniffing the air he gives me another fond smile, “Oh Stiles, you smell so confused, just go ahead and ask me...”

 

Well that’s definitely an invitation, “What do you want from me?”  And I hold my breath waiting for the explosion.

 

“Everything,” doesn’t really answer my question and he doesn’t elaborate.

 

“Um…” Another witty comeback from me, but then Peter has always put me off of my stride.

 

“You will tell them,” he starts saying, “That Oren was taking too long, you came to find him, you noticed the lights were out, because I’m sure you did notice them, and then something hit you over the head.  You remember nothing else as you’d been knocked out.”

 

“Knocked out?” I really don’t like where this is going.  “Why do I have to be knocked out?”

 

“It will work better that way when you’re questioned in the hospital,” he’s so calm as he’s telling me this screwed up plan of his.  “Wait a few days, rest there in the hospital, and I’ll come for you as a concerned friend who happened to see the terrible story in the local newspaper as I was passing through the area on business.  We know each other from Beacon Hills and I’m visiting you, I’ll tell you the rest after that.”

 

I hate this plan and I’m mentally roughing out my route to run for it, I might make it to the camera in time and then he’ll be seen for the monster he is.

 

Eyeing up the distance I barely see him move and then the world is going black and I’m stuck with his stupid insane plan that I don’t even know the reason for.


	5. Chapter 5

Noise.

 

Light.

 

Pain in my head.

 

Pain in my body.

 

I screw my eyes shut and hope it all goes away.

 

The smell of a hospital invades my nose and the noise echoes in my ears, unable to ignore it I crack my eyes open and glance about, I think I’m in the ER department.

 

Everything is fuzzy and in twos and threes, that can’t be good and even my brain is unable to function enough that my ADHD isn’t online, at least I don’t think it is.  The pounding in my skull must be drowning it out.

 

Damn, why am I in the hospital?

 

Is it something to do with Scott?  Is he okay?  What about my dad?

 

Trying to sit up I groan as the world tilts and I fall back landing on bruises I didn’t know I had.

 

“Mr Stilinski?” Someone’s saying and I blink stupidly at a man in hospital scrubs.  “How many fingers?” I mumble six, which upsets him, and there are lights in my eyes and hands on my head.

 

“He’s awake,” a very unfriendly male voice is saying and the man in scrubs is pushed away.  What could be a badge is waved in front of my face.  “Mr Stilinski, we need to ask you some questions about what happened last night.”

 

“Last night?” My words are slurred and in the background the man in scrubs is now arguing with what I’m assuming is this cop’s partner.

 

“The parking garage,” the unfriendly cop says looming over me menacingly.  I’ve been loomed at so much I’m not that impressed but it does jog my memory.

 

“Oren!” I try to sit up again, but slower, “Where’s Oren?  He went to get the car, he was taking too long, he must have been hurt, oh my god, which bed is he in?” I manage to get all the way up and painfully swing my legs over the bed.  The cop is being a total dick and stands blankly as I struggle.  “Oren!” I call out, the guy is a werewolf he’ll hear me, I just have to get close enough to hear him.

 

“Whoa,” the scrubs guy is back, “No, no going anywhere,” he wrestles me back onto the bed.

 

“You don’t understand,” I’m too injured to fight properly, “I have to see him, I have to, he must have been hurt too, let me up.” I push on the guy’s shoulders, “Please, you have to let me up,” I have to get to Oren and cover for him, to come up with a plan for why he’s healing so quickly.  “Please,” I’m reduced to pleading.

 

“No,” the guy’s adamant.  “You have to rest, you’re not bleeding internally but you were hurt, and you need to stay here and let us do our jobs,” there’s something in the way the guy isn’t looking at me that jogs my memory.

 

“What aren’t you telling me about Oren?” I’m a sheriff’s kid, I might be concussed but I’m not stupid.  “What is it?  Where is he?” I’m starting to panic, what if they’ve already noticed and have already started dissecting him alive? What if they trace the werewolf thing to Beacon Hills? Everyone would be in danger and I trash under this guy stopping me from protecting them, “No, let me go, let me go.  Oren!  Oren!”

 

There are more people in scrubs and there’s a battle to keep me on the bed as I scream for Oren, they insert a line to a hanging bag of IV stuff and then they’re injecting something into it and I know it’s going to be bad, I try and get the line out, it’s too late and the world is slowing down, it’s harder to move.

 

My head lolls to the side where twin red lights blink at me and I should be scared of them as I’m sucked down into the dark, because there’s something scary out there, something big and bad and it’s hunting me.

 

There’s no escaping the dark and it pulls me under.

 

*

 

Bobbing back up I open my eyes to stare at a ceiling.  I still hurt.  My head is still pounding but everything is muted now, pushed further away.  I lay there and everything is sluggish, my thoughts move as fast as molasses in my brain, I must be on some pretty trippy drugs right now and it makes me smile, why am I never in a position to enjoy the good things like being as high as a kite?

 

“Mr Stilinski,” another person in scrubs is there, “Hi, I’m Doctor Prior, I have a few things to do to you.”

 

“’Kay,” I murmur and the man smiles at me.

 

There are no double or triple images and he seems satisfied with my eyes, to the point that he tones down the pain medication.  I’m left on my own with just a nurse coming to check on me every twenty minutes and my mind starts to clear.

 

Oh crap.

 

I’m fuzzy on the details but something has happened to Oren.  And that’s when dream dad comes to visit me.  He sits on my bed and it makes my heart hurt to see him, I think that’s why I don’t see him very often.

 

“Stiles,” his voice is very gentle, “You have to be very careful now, you have to watch what you say and how you say it.  I’m here for you kiddo.  Let me help you.”

 

The nurse is back before I can answer him or question him and there’s a woman too.  The woman isn’t in scrubs and dream dad is glaring at her, she must be who I have to be careful of, except there’s something else, something nagging at me, something so very dangerous I have to escape it.

 

“Mr Stilinski,” the woman’s voice is calm, “My name is Detective Bains.  I have some questions for you.  Are you up to answering them yet?  Your doctor said you’re nicely on the road to recovery.”

 

Behind her dream dad nods so I say, “Okay, yes.”

 

Dragging a chair over she waits for the nurse to finish with my vitals and then a man and a woman walk into my room, they’re arguing but stop when the Detective glares at them.  “Mr Stilinski,” Bains says as calm as before, “This is my partner Granger,” the man gives a little wave and a reassuring smile, “And this is the Social Worker assigned to you as you’re not yet eighteen, strange how you can do so much and be counted an adult but you have to have her present while we ask you questions.”

 

“Yes Stiles,” the other woman’s voice is hard, “Whenever an officer of the law wants to ask you these kind of questions, someone like me should be present at all times,” she’s angry at the Detectives.

 

Dream dad is pleased this woman is here and I relax against the pillows and wait, ignoring that persistent itch between my shoulder blades warning me of something.


	6. Chapter 6

Bains gets out a mini recording device and sets it up on my bed’s table, starting it rolling she says names and places, time and date, and my brain latches onto that because I’ve just lost three days.

 

“Okay Mr Stilinski, I’d like to make it very clear that we’ve done a very thorough background search on you and you are not in any way a suspect.  You are, however, a possible witness and we need you to answer some questions for us,” her voice is clear and calm.

 

Dream dad nods so I say, “Yes, I’ll help you and answer your questions, but I have to know where Oren is first, please, I vaguely remember waking up and something happening.”

 

My heart monitor is picking up my increased heart rate and Bains grimaces slightly, “Mr Stilinski, I’m from the homicide department,” the monitor flat lines for a few seconds and then thunders as I reel and try to process the news.

 

“Oren,” I whimper and I know he’s gone, it has to be something very powerful or determined to kill a werewolf and I roll onto my side to curl up a little.  “Oh god, Oren…” There’s too much death in my life, I just want a break from it all, just a little bit of peace, is it too much to ask?

 

The Social Worker comes over, “Stiles, if you need to stop,” she’s glaring at Bains, “They have to leave, okay, you can tell them to leave whenever you need to.”

 

“I’m okay,” I pull myself together and flick my eyes up to Bains understanding why dream dad’s here; I have to convince them I’m a grieving boyfriend and behind Bains he nods to let me know I’m right.  “What do you want to know?” I ask Bains and try to pretend I’m helping them because I want justice for Oren.

 

It’s fairly routine, they walk me through the events of the night, they seem to know everything already and then it reaches the point I’m at the third level of the parking garage and I pause, “Something was wrong,” I tell them, “It felt wrong.  The lights at the end were out, the camera’s been tampered with, and then there was someone behind me,” someone I need to remember, someone frightening, “I don’t remember, why don’t I remember?”

 

“Head traumas can do that, especially with the beating you took,” the man says joining in and flicks through some notes in his hand.  “Is there anything leading up to that night that sticks out as being different?”

 

“No…” I pause again, “Wait, the light at the base of the apartment stairs, the light was on when I put the trash out, I came back and it was on, and at the top of the stairs I looked back and it was out.  The maintenance man had to fix it the next day, he said it was some kids pulling a prank.”

 

The Detectives share a look and Bains asks, “And where was Oren at the time?”

 

“Out,” I say turning the puzzle over in my head, there are still a few missing pieces, “He was upset, he said he had to go out and clear his head.”

 

“And you turned up the next day at school with more bruises,” the man says and I glare at him, “Mr Stilinski we’re aware that Oren was a domestically violent partner, please don’t try and hide it,” his voice is gentle and he’s being sympathetic.

 

I know exactly how a victim should sound and I let my voice crack in places as I say, “He’d just gotten a promotion at work, things were going to get better, he said he was sorry he hit me, he had a temper, he couldn’t help it.”

 

And he couldn’t, being a werewolf tended to make you crabby and grumpy, especially at that time of the month, with Oren being a pack-less Omega he’d have no one else to help him.

 

They don’t believe that, but they do believe that I believe it, which I don’t.  Oren was abusive, but he could also rip my throat out, and he was far better than Brad had ever been.

 

Bains gives me a fake smile, “Well, we have the six suspects in custody already, we just needed to see if you could place them at the crime scene, they’ve clearly made sure you can’t.  There’s plenty of physical evidence to place them there and they have motive.”

 

Grabbing the recording device she stops it after giving the necessary spiel, “Thank you for your cooperation Mr Stilinski and I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

They leave me alone with the Social Worker who sighs and comes to sit in Bains’ chair, “Well Stiles, you do have a habit of picking the wrong man, first Brad and now Oren,” her smile is tired but genuine.  “You were very lucky you didn’t walk up to the car with Oren that night, he used to be part of a gang and they didn’t take kindly to him leaving them, they have happily and drunkenly confessed to his murder, they also have a grudge going with another local gang so they’re in solitary to keep them safe.”

 

“Oren was in a gang?” I wrap my head around that fact and that he worked in an office and did nine to five as she nods.

 

We talk for a bit longer, apparently all my stuff has been thrown out by my landlord, the school is waving the fees of lost books and this woman is going to get me a place in a homeless shelter for kids, “It’s only for a few days,” she warns me, “But we’ll help you find a new apartment you can afford to rent, the school is fine with you being out, they say you’re an excellent student, almost straight A’s the whole way.”

 

And I’m back to square one.

 

At least I’ll be on my own without a werewolf expecting sex from me, I’m safe that way but something is still niggling at the back of my head and I keep thinking I need to run.

 

She pats my hand when she leaves and I’m stuck with the aftermath of Oren being murdered.  Without him to protect me from other werewolves I could be killed or taken by another rogue Omega passing through.  Perhaps this time I’ll be able to get rid of the scent of werewolf before the next one appears and I can fly under the radar.

 

It’s possible.

 

Staying curled up under the covers I talk to the nurse each time she comes in and later on they unhook me from the monitors, I’m awake, conscious and not likely to slip back under.

 

They’re going to discharge me tomorrow.  My Social Worker is already arraigning for clothes and a ride to the kid’s home shelter outreach program thing.  I get another dose of painkillers and doze, this medication is seriously trippy and I like the change from my Adderall, nothing is in focus and my brain is fuzzy and full of fluff.

 

I’m allowed to shower and I get to catalogue all the cool new bruises I’ve acquired.  It’s not as bad as the first time with Brad, or the week he spent training me not to run as the bastard tracked me clear across town the ten times I tried to run.  I did everything I could think of to hide my scent from him and he still found me.

 

Four times I wash with the horrible hospital soap and my skin itches like it’s unclean, but I know it’s as clean as I can get it.  Drying off I have to pat dry most of me, there are some grazes and a few cuts, but mostly bruises which are going to hurt like hell when the pain meds wear off.

 

Another backless gown, for modesty, and I sneak to my bed putting my bare ass on the sheets that have been changed, nice.  Using the remote I cycle through the few channels available and try really hard not to think about anything.  I’ll worry about the problem of where to stay and what I’m going to do when I’m at the shelter, for now I need some me time to heal and get over this.

 

Dream Derek pops into view, “Stiles, run, Stiles, come on run,” he’s staring at the door and looks upset.

 

A soft knock from the doorway and I absently call out, “It’s open,” my dream Derek swings his head to me and looks like he’s in pain. I miss the real him so much.

 

“Hello Stiles,” a voice says and I whip my head around, wincing at the pain that causes to see Peter Hale standing there with a few magazines in his hands, “I’m not sure if you remember me…”

 

“Peter,” I breathe out and then I see the nurse hovering behind him, she smiles and leaves us.

 

Oh my god.

 

Peter.

 

That’s what I forgot.

 

It was him.  I swallow loudly and he moves closer and closer to me as my heart speeds up pounding in my chest as id it could burst out at any second.  He snags a chair and sets it next to me.  He sits down and smiles at me, “Relax Stiles, I’m not here to hurt you.”

 

That doesn’t really reassure me and I know I’m looking at him like a rabbit caught by a hungry wolf.


	7. Chapter 7

“I brought you some magazines,” Peter says and holds them out, “I know you have ADHD, being stuck in here will drive you crazy, you need something to stimulate your brain.”

 

Hesitantly I take them from him and glance at the one on top, it’s the latest National Geographic, my hand hasn’t griped them properly and they fan out, I can see a Batman comic, a newspaper, behind them all is a console gaming magazine.

 

“Um…” I’m really not sure what the hell is going on. I remember it all now.  First he stalks me, then he kills Oren and knocks me unconscious, then he brings me things to read.  Keeping my voice down I ask, “Why did you kill Oren?”

 

A grimace crosses his face, “I didn’t.  I was going to beat him unconscious and take you as my valued prize, but those human idiots gutted him before I could.  I had to improvise to protect you from the human law enforcement, they tend to look at partners before anyone else.”

 

“Oh,” My numbed and medicated brain turns that over, “Valued prize?”

 

“Yes,” He’s sitting primly and properly on his chair, hands folded in his lap, “I intend to take you as mine,” his blue eyes burn red for a few seconds, “I am fully recovered and at the height of my power as an Alpha, he was a mere pack-less Omega, he had no right to have you as his, he certainly didn’t treat you properly,” a low growl drifts from him, “Imagine hitting you because he had to work late, he should have been grateful you stayed with him.”

 

Okay he’s being weird and creepy again.

 

Not being a hundred percent certain that Peter understands why I stayed with Oren I venture, “You do get that I’m just human, I can’t fight back that easily against a werewolf?  And Brad, the werewolf before Oren, did kinda show me that running wasn’t an option because he just followed my scent and then proved that staying was better than dying…”

 

I’m not expecting his hand to shoot out and grip my wrist, “And you did nothing to fight back?” He seems surprised and I try to move my arm away but his hand tightens very slightly forcing me to leave it there.

 

“Obviously I did, I know about wolfsbane, and so did Brad, he caught me on a few more well planned attempts to injure him or kill him off, in the end Oren fought him to the death after I weakened him and Oren got me in the bargain,” Peter’s eyes narrow and I babble a bit more, “Oren was way better than Brad, I didn’t want to screw it up and anyway, I only had to stay until college and then I had the perfect excuse to leave.”

 

“Hmm, well from now on you’re part of my pack,” he states and my stomach sinks, “There will only be you and I, and you will service all my needs,” oh god no, not Peter, I can’t have him touch me like that, something must show on my face, “Stiles, I assure you that I will treat you with the respect you deserve as my life long partner and my needs aren’t that terrible.”

 

Studying me he tilts his head, “Though I’m confused why you’re out here alone and so easy to get to, I thought you were tucked up safe and sound with Derek, my silly nephew.  Yet here you are ripe for the plucking, I didn’t even have to fight him for you,” his thumb rubs a circle on my arm and I fight off my need to shiver in fear.

 

“Fight him?” My voice is faint and I can’t keep up with him, the medications are interfering and not because I keep freezing in terror and if I keep telling myself that it might become true.

 

“Of course.  If I want someone as strong as you in my pack I have to prove that I can be the Alpha you need, I have to prove I’m better than him,” he’s so matter of fact.

 

Frowning I pick at his explanation, “But why would you want an Omega like me in your pack?  I thought you wanted a Beta like Scott?”

 

“That ungratefully little puppy can hound Derek and make his life hell,” Peter snarls the words and I can feel pinpricks of claws on my arm, they vanish just as quickly never breaking the skin, “I’m glad I never bit you in the woods,” he’s saying all calm again, “You are a gift Stiles, more special than you can imagine, so many people overlook you and don’t see you for what you are, but I do, and I will have you one way or another,” and there is the psycho in him peeking out.  “Come with me willingly Stiles, stand by my side, with you there I will have no need to seek a pack, you will be all I’ll ever need.”

 

“I…” I really have no idea what to say or think, he scares the crap out of me, and he’s creepy as hell, now what do I do to get away from him? I’m all alone with no pack to save me, and the Hunters are just as likely to use me as bait with little or no chance of me surviving their plan to kill Peter.

 

“You clearly underestimate yourself Stiles, you are at worst a Beta, and nearly an Alpha already, why do you think I’m so drawn to you?  Your power calls to mine. You were able to help Scott with his newly turned abilities, something only one with the strength you exhibit could do,” it’s kind of flattering.  “I’ve never been with a male before,” and then he spoils it as my blood runs cold, “I admit you confused me so much to start with, I prefer women, but they pale in comparison to you, I must have you Stiles,” his teeth are lengthening and his claws are extending.

 

“Um, hospital, you’re in a hospital…” I try and reach him verbally; he blinks and shakes his head, the monster hidden away once more.

 

“See, already you’re helping me,” his smile is harmless again.  “Perhaps you need some gentle persuasion,” visions of him throwing me across the room fill my mind.  “I’ve found a very nice little territory, it’s called Wolf Creek,” oh he is not living somewhere called Wolf Creek, that is just too symbolic and open to mocking, “It has a small high school, you can finish your schooling there in peace.  It’s only a few hours travel from New York, you could spend a lifetime exploring that city and it’s many museums and distractions.  I’ve set up a tiny business and can work from home with the minimum of fuss.

 

“When you graduate we can relocate for whatever college you want to go to, within reason.  I can protect you from any werewolves that encroach on our territory and keep you safe.  I will provide for you.  I will care for you and love you as much as I’m able to,” he’s painting a very nice picture.

 

“What’s the catch?” I ask warily acting like I have a choice in his creepy domestic fantasy.

 

“That you are loyal and faithful to me, that you stay with me for as long as I live,” and that can’t be all, I snort in disbelief and wait for the world domination plans to crop up, “I assure you Stiles, I seek only peace and quiet with my chosen lifelong partner.”  He reaches into a pocket with his free hand and brings out a ring box, and I have to be hallucinating or something as he flips it open one handedley, “I’m completely serious and committed to this relationship, I’ve even picked out our wedding rings already.”

 

“I’m only sixteen,” I whimper seeing the rings as chains holding me down, I had no idea I was this commitment phobic, especially where Peter’s concerned, “I talk too much, I’ve got ADHD, I’m hyper and annoying, there are so many reasons that people prefer to have mini breaks from being around me all the time,” I think I’m starting to really panic now.

 

“I know, and they’re fools to not accept all that you are,” he’s so serious as he sits there holding out a box with two silvery coloured rings in it.

 

If this were Derek sitting there telling me I was a gift, that I was special and an Alpha, if he had picked out our rings and told me he would care for me I’d be climbing him like a tree.  I know I’m stupid for having feelings for him after being his Omega and there purely for his physical needs, but I fell in love with the growly idiot and my foolish heart wants something I can never have, because he’ll never feel the same way about me, especially after Brad, then Oren and now Peter.

 

“I…” Oh my god, I did not see this coming.  Peter dragging me to the middle of nowhere to slaughter me is at the top of my list of things for him to do, being proposed to and asked to live with him is not even close to being on the list.

 

Patting my wrist he withdraws his hand, “You’re still injured Stiles, you should rest.  I’ve been listening to the staff and you’re going to be discharged in the morning.  I’ll give you a few days to think about my offer.”

 

And then my normal knee jerk reaction to ask dumb questions that often gets me nearly killed rears it’s head, “And if I decline your offer?”

 

Red eyes burn at me, “Well, we both know I can be very persuasive if I have to be, and I really don’t want to start our new relationship that way Stiles, I’d prefer you to come with me willing and be mine,” he smiles as if he’s not just threatened me and leaves. I shake on the bed suddenly cold and certain I’ll never be warm again.

 

Closing my eyes I fight against nausea and wonder what my life would be like if I’d never dragged Scott out into the woods that night, how much easier things would have been.  Or if I’d said yes to Peter when he offered me the Bite, I’d be a werewolf, if I’d survived, and then I’d be safe in Beacon Hills right now instead of running off and being stupid.

 

I know I want to scream ‘No’ at Peter, to run away and keep running until I get to the ends of the earth and then pitch myself off the cliff.  But I’m cold bloodedly running the options and their consequences through my head, and I already know I can survive sex with a werewolf, I’m used to doing chores around the house, I can take care of his needs for him.  I’ll also be near New York, which is miles and miles away from Beacon Hills and my dad, so there’s one less supernatural thing to try and eat him, or my old pack, or Derek.

 

Laying there I curl up in a tight ball knowing I’m going to say ‘Yes’ to keep them all safe from Peter.  It’s not that much of a hardship, I just hope he’ll accept the stretch Stiles before penetration rule and doesn’t mind my cooking.

 

A few tears leak out and I wipe uselessly at them, crying won’t save me from the big bad creeper wolf, learning how to read him and anticipate his needs will. I’m smart I can learn to do that, just like I did with Brad and with Oren.  Once I understand Peter I can start planning how to get out of this and escape from him.

 

The nurse comes back in and I convince her I’m upset over Oren, she pats my shoulder and puts the magazines on the side for me.  She even sneaks me in a few chocolates to cheer me up, I eat them and force them to stay down but they’re like lead lumps in my stomach.


	8. Chapter 8

Sitting on the sofa at the kids refuge shelter I read the gaming magazine Peter got for me at the hospital, there are some useful cheats and inside information on a game I’ve been thinking of getting with my nonexistent money.

 

My discharge at the hospital was easy, my meagre medical insurance barely covered my basic care but I think my Social Worker kicked a few asses for me because I don’t owe anything.

 

The kids’ home is nice enough, and then Peter turned up here four days ago and proceeded to take charge of my life.  I’ve resisted the urge to flee or whack him with a rolled up newspaper.  He’s ridiculously happy that I’ve said yes to him.  Everything is ready for me to go with him to Wolf Creek, damn there are so many jokes to make about that name and not enough time, and all my school stuff is being transferred.

 

Glancing at the clock I fight not to jiggle my knees, he’s picking me up in about five minutes and I ignore the churning in my guts.  I’m going to ignore as much of this problem as I can.  I’m going to be a good little Stiles and not give him lots of excuses to beat me, and I’m going to calmly explain how to stretch me so he doesn’t tear anything and land me in hospital.

 

It’s going to be okay, somehow.

 

Opposite me on the other sofa dream Scott is fidgeting and giving me puppy eyes, “Come home,” he begs and I shake my head, I’d only be dragging Peter after me now, and I left because I didn’t belong to anyone or anything in the end.  No more dad, no more Scott, no more pack and Derek.  It was better that I left and maybe this is the reason why.  I was supposed to keep Peter occupied and away from all of them.

 

“Stiles,” my dream friend whines, “Be careful, please be careful.”  I give him a small smile and wonder how crazy I am now, I’m probably a better fit for Peter’s brand of crazy than he realises.

 

That sense of being watched washes over me and I look up to see Peter standing there, “Are you really Stiles?”

 

No.

 

No I’m not ready but I fake a smile and get to my feet wincing slightly as my bruises pull.  I follow him out and sign papers to say I’m old enough to be on my own and then I follow him to his car, which is parked nearby.  It’s a big Hummer and I whistle impressed despite myself.

 

“I needed something I could drive you home in safely,” he opens the passenger side door and waves me in.  Wow I am seriously getting the girl treatment here.  He hops in the driver’s side as I buckle up, “I know you’ve lost all your clothes, so I took the liberty of buying you a few pieces until we get to our first stop and you can get yourself new ones.”

 

I’m not happy with wearing what he’s picked out, but it’s that or the same few pieces the shelter had, leftovers that have seen much better days, the sneakers I have on have holes in them on both feet and the jeans are fraying in too many places, the t-shirt has long since lost it’s motif, the hoodie is thin from too much washing. 

 

Belatedly remembering my manners I nod, “Thank you Peter.”

 

“You’re welcome Stiles,” he starts the big assed vehicle and we’re off.  He smoothly navigates the traffic as I twitch on my side of the car.  The radio isn’t on, I have nothing to read, I don’t want to upset him by talking too much and I’m bored within minutes of staring out the window.

 

“Look in the glove compartment,” his voice makes me jump and I tremble as I obey him, might as well get used to it now.  I find the newest I-Pad.  “I bought it for you, we’ll be in the car a long time, it will give you something to do.  Most of the time we’ll be out of internet connection, but there are several Apps downloaded already, and we can download movies and things when we stop for the night.”

 

“Thanks,” I’m stunned by his generosity and startled at this forethought of not getting me so bored I talk his ear off.  Also in the glove compartment is a charger so I can charge it in the car as we go.  And then I remember tonight I’ll have to pay for it. 

 

Taking a few deep breathes I have to make myself remember that I can survive this, that it’s just sex, I can do this.

 

Turning on the I-Pad I scroll through some of the things he has on there and I can keep myself amused for a while no problem, there’s even music on there, not my kind of thing but better than nothing.

 

It has a classic version of Tetris and I turn the music off so as not to annoy him.  I blast through it and get absorbed in planning out the blocks and building up to wipe out vast layers in one go until the speed is too quick and I’m pounding at the screen just to stay in the game.

 

On my eighth go I smash through my old high score and crow at my awesomeness with a fist pump.  Looking up I see a smile flickering on Peter’s mouth and we’ve left most of the city behind us as we cruise on the highway.

 

Squirming I decide to risk asking him, “Why are we travelling by car?  Wouldn’t a plane be faster?” I can’t see why he’d want to drive that far.

 

“Yes, but I like driving and I thought we could stop on the way and look at tourist traps, there’s no hurry to reach home,” it’s not a full explanation and I nod anyway.  “How’s your game?”

 

“’S’Good, I just beat my all time high score,” I boast and proceed to tell him about the time I beat the high score at the arcade when I was ten and how I got kicked out because the reigning champion had worked there, “But dad said I did good and got me curly fries,” ah curly fries, they soothe my wounds and at that time made me stop crying.

 

“What other games do you like?” He opens himself up to my many opinions of video games and then we reach the online games.  I wax poetically about my current favourite and the frankly amazing character I’ve built up, how I plumbed the depths of the latest dungeon upgrade, hooked up with other players and plundered it for everything that wasn’t nailed down. That was before I left Beacon Hills though and I shove that thought to one side.

 

“And then I hauled ass and went to the tavern, with the upgrades I got I snagged a quest I’d not been able to do and this time I waded through the guardians,” I rub my hands together gleefully.

 

A soft chuckle from Peter and he says, “It sounds very fascinating, the designers have clearly thought about their players, you have to use cunning, teamwork and have a good understand of the game world.  You’ll have to show me one day and if the computer or console at home isn’t good enough we’ll upgrade so you can continue playing.”

 

“Really? Most people scoff at my online games, and aren’t I supposed to keep my grades up and stuff?” He’s not reacting as I’m expecting him to and I mentally file everything away so I can learn him as quickly as possible.

 

“Stiles, you’ve managed to live on your own, I’m sure you’re aware of the consequences of your grades failing, you’ll either have limited selections of colleges that will accept you, or you’ll be forced to repeat a year of high school.  You’re far too smart not to have thought about it,” he points out and yeah I know all that because I have thought about it.

 

“Oh,” I sit back, “So no lectures on being a dumb teenager then?”

 

“I’m sure we’ll have those,” he’s tone is dry, “You are a dumb teenager after all, but you’ll outgrow it in time.  You should be able to enjoy the last touch of your childhood, no more worries about keeping a roof over your head, or battling to keep loved ones safe.  You’re a junior in high school, relax, next year you can worry about college.  Then in college you can worry about courses, after college you can go to work and we have all the time in the world for you to finish growing up.

 

“Though,” he smiles at me, “I’ll let you into a little secret, sometimes when you’re an adult and all the bills are paid and all the work is done, you get to be a big kid and have fun.  Video games might not be my thing but I do love those ridiculous fantasy books, and I like Tolken, the film adaptations are very well done, within the limits of the media used.”

 

“Wait you like Lord of the Rings?” My jaw drops in shock.

 

“Yes, as a child I always wanted to go to Rivendell and talk with the Elves,” he admits, “Imagine running and playing in that hallowed place, free to be one with nature,” he sighs and sees me staring at him, “What?”

 

“Nothing,” I lie, “I just never thought you’d be the bookish type.”

 

“I wasn’t always this broken inside,” he blindsides me with his own acceptance of his craziness, “Before the fire,” he flinches slightly, “I loved books, I loved reading, I played the piano, I was captain of the basketball team in high school, I had children of my own.”

 

Sometimes I forget everything the three Hale survivors lost.

 

“Your favourite scene of the movies?” He asks me and I take the hint letting him steer the conversation into safer waters.


	9. Chapter 9

The day’s going better than I would ever believe it could do, Peter is on his best behaviour, we talk or I play games on the I-Pad.  At lunch we pull in to top up gas and I get some sandwiches with the money he gives me, he trusts me enough to let me go to the toilet on my own, not that I can really run anywhere without him catching me in minutes.

 

I did contemplate phoning home, of letting Scott know about Peter, but we didn’t end things well between us.  Experience has taught me that he won’t come running for me, not if it means he has to leave Allison and she’s still recovering from her mother’s death and Gerard’s manipulation of her.

 

Dad’s off my list because he’s my dad and I refuse to put him in danger, I know he doesn’t see me as his son anymore, but I don’t care, I will protect him.

 

Derek and the Betas, oh that’s going to continue to be funny, won’t give a crap about me.  They won’t save me, it’s up to me to save them, I’m always saving someone, and I’ll do it again.

 

Climbing back into the Hummer I hand Peter a sandwich and start on my own, it’s not bad.  And then we’re back on the I-80 heading for wherever Peter’s planned.  I gaze about as we drive through Nevada, this is the first time I’ve been out of state and I’d be excited but there’s not much to see from the moving vehicle and Peter’s not hanging about, in fact he’s pushing the speed limits as much as he can.

 

There’s not too much traffic and he cruises along fairly smoothly.

 

The sun is starting to dip in the sky and he doesn’t look like he’s stopping any time soon as I look up from a round of Pac Man on the I-Pad.  I’m getting hungry again and my stomach rumbles, “Sorry,” he says, “I have a room booked for a few nights, I want to make it there today and go pick up a package tomorrow. We can eat in our room.”

 

That’s the opening I’ve been looking for, “Where are we staying tonight?”

 

He mentions a hotel name and then Salt Lake City, which I totally know is in Utah.  We’ll have to finish crossing the top of Nevada to get there.  “Have you ever been there?” He asks.

 

“Nope, never left California before,” I wiggle in my seat and cross my arms as I stare at the landscape.

 

“Hmm, well I’m sorry we’re not stopping in Nevada, perhaps we can come back and I’ll show you Las Vegas and we can nip to the Grand Canyon too,” he offers.

 

“Really?” I’ve seen the city on TV so many times and there’s always some documentary on the Grand Canyon.  “Cool. You should know I can count cards, I rarely lose,” I warn him.

 

“And I can hear the dealer’s and players’ heartbeats,” he adds, “I think if we gambled properly we might get banned from all of the casinos and that would be a pity, many of them have some incredible tourist attractions and shows.”

 

“Well crap,” I mock sigh.

 

We share a laugh and it’s like we’re on an actual road trip across the country, just two guys, no threats, no werewolfism, if I can keep it like this I know I can survive this deal.  And I’ve already seen more of the world than I ever have before, I can do this, I totally can.

 

My hands are slightly sweaty in the comfortable temperature of the air-conditioned and heated Hummer and I wipe them on my jeans.  Peter glances at me but doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate.

 

“So, um, what do you do as your job?” He’s rented a damn Hummer, it has to be a good job.

 

“I trade in rare texts, dabble in the stock markets, own some property with holiday lets, win at gambling,” that gets a bark of a laugh from me, “Also antiques, I have an eye for valuable items, I seem to spot them when others miss them,” he’s flicking his eyes at me for that last bit, I think he might be flirting with me, or maybe not, no one flirts with me.

 

“Oh, that sounds interesting, a bit of everything then,” I nod and I can see him clearing up at a card game, he’s smart enough that I bet he can count cards and he’d detect tells the others wouldn’t know they were giving away.  The rare texts would be linked to his book reading I guess.  The stock markets and property are a surprise because with the way things are in the economy you can lose money as quickly as making any.  I’ve seen the odd program on antiques where someone’s bought an ugly piece of crap for a dollar and it turned out to be worth thousands instead.

 

“Hmm, I’ve leant to diversify, and the payout from the insurance company helped set me up, they were so worried about being sued they paid up and then some,” he admits and adds, “I’ve tracked a few books down and I’ve arranged to pick them up tomorrow, they’re my package.  I intend to sell them on to a buyer I’ve found when we get home.”

 

“Awesome,” I avoid the mention of home.  “What kind of profit are you making on them?” I know I’m being nosey but I need to know as much about his new life as possible, the more I know the better I can plan to stay on his good side.

 

“I’m buying them sight unseen for a few dollars each.  If they’re damaged I can sell from for maybe a few hundred, if they’re in good condition I’ll get closer to a few thousand.”

 

I whistle impressed, “Wow,” That’s more than most people make in a month, “Not bad for a career.”

 

“Thank you,” and he tells me about another deal he made a few days ago where he found a vase in a yard sale, he picked it up for a dollar and he’s just sold it for ten grand, “People can be so blind, and I do love hunting for hidden gems,” I get another look from him.

 

“No wonder you can afford a Hummer,” I shift in the giant seat and he smirks at me. 

 

Unshockingly the rest of the ride is fairly boring, I alternate between playing games, listening to the radio and he lets me have control of it, though he keeps the volume down due to werewolf hearing, and talking about things.  He knows a lot more about the world and he’s fascinating to talk to.  If he weren’t a psycho werewolf and wasn’t crazy I could really enjoy this, it does give me glimpses into what he used to be and I really wish I could have met him in a world with no Hale house fire.

 

The only other stop we do is so I can pee and he can keep the tank topped up as the thing drinks gas way worse than my old jeep.  I sneak a few snacks in from the little bit of cash I have left, and pass him some candy to stop his blood sugar crashing, he stares at the confectionary for a minute or two, sniffs it and then eats it, “Thank you,” he says around the chocolate gooeyness in his mouth.

 

“Welcome,” I have the same problem and yep we’re totally bonding, this is very important when being made prisoner.  You have to get your jailer on your side, the more he likes you the nicer he’ll be to you when you’re both naked.  And I really want Peter to be nice to me later on, there will be stretching of Stiles happening damn it.

 

It took me a while to learn how to sweet talk Brad, I started out right with Oren so it was easier on me that time, and now I’ve got a happy Peter on my hands so I should be in a position to trade with him and make it very easy on me when he demands sex.

 

I finally get what a lot of women grumble about and it’s not nice to be the supposed weaker member of the pair, I have to use my body to survive in the relationship and I hate having to do that.

 

By the time we reach Salt Lake City it’s dark so I can’t really get a good look.  Peter says the I-80 runs through the middle of the city and that our hotel is just off it.

 

I’ve gotten a little used to living in a city after Beacon Hills but I do check out what I can of the place and then we’re pulling up outside a giant building that dominates the area, “Whoa, is that our hotel?” The name tastefully displayed matches the one Peter mentioned earlier.

 

“Yes, I’ve booked us a room in advance,” he says as we get out, a valet takes the keys to the Hummer and a man hurries over to take our very meagre bags, well Peter’s bags I don’t have anything, “I thought we could eat in our room tonight and relax after our journey.  Tomorrow I have that appointment, but we can go shopping and sightseeing afterwards.”

 

I’m busy craning my neck up to the see the height of the building, I count at least twenty floors and the top is just out of sight.  It’s a beautiful white colour and there are balconies attached to rooms, anything else is hidden in the darkness and I gape happily to myself.

 

“Sir?” The man with the bags clears his throat getting both Peter’s attention and mine.

 

Flushing and feeling awkward I stumble over to Peter who openly takes my hand in his and leads me into a giant marble sheathed foyer.  At the reception desk the woman is sweet, polite and professional until Peter says his name and that he has a reservation, at that point she falls over herself to be helpful.

 

“Of course Mr Hale, the Presidential Suite is ready for you and your,” she falters for a second as her eyes linger on my face, probably taking in my bruises, “Err, your…”

 

“Fiancé,” he supplies and she nods accepting it.

 

“Do you require any assistance,” her hand vaguely waves to her face and she seems at a loss of what to do.  I’m clearly young, I’m obviously hurt, and Peter is much older than me.

 

“No, but Stiles will require food before he takes his pain medication, and we need an alarm call in the morning, I have things to do.  Also Stiles will need a tourist information pack for things to do in a day, if he’s up to it, and we’ll need a taxi cab in the morning,” he reels off a list of things and she makes notes while sneaking worried looks at me. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the subscriptions, bookmarks, kudos and comments :) I love every last one of them.

There’s so much I could do at this point to get Peter into trouble but I really don’t want to see him rip people apart and besides I’m hungry, so room and food is perfect for me, I’ll deal with Peter’s needs after I’ve eaten.

 

Smiling innocently at the receptionist I can see her relax slightly and Peter must have caught it too as he squeezes my hand gently.  The guy with our bags takes us to the bank of lifts and we get in.  He presses the button near the top so we’re going to be high up.

 

The placement makes sense as Presidential Suites tend to take up the most space and if we do have a balcony I’ll have fantastic views of the city and mountains, I vaguely remember something about the lake too.

 

My hands are sweating again the higher the number gets on the lift, and Peter’s thumb rubs over my knuckles.  I have to control myself better than this, I know I can do this and I move my hand so our fingers are interlaced but it still leaves him free to keep rubbing my knuckles if he wants to.

 

“This way sirs,” the man is overly polite and I ignore him in favour of staring at the unbelievable corridor I’m ambling down, it carpeted and so opulent it’s straight out of a movie, there are chandeliers and ornate mirrors, extra pieces of furniture that serve no purpose but to look pretty and then the man is opening a door and I stumble in to find myself in a giant living room.

 

The room is bigger than my old bedroom in Beacon Hills and I know I was spoilt with the size of that room; in fact you could get my room in this one about four times over.  There’s a dining room table and matching chairs, a sofa and matching arm chairs, a coffee table, huge windows that open onto a long balcony, more chandeliers and some doors that I’m guessing the bedroom is hiding behind or the bathroom or maybe something extra.

 

Listening to the well-rehearsed spiel from the man I discover we have a kitchen, an extra toilet, a bedroom, and a full bathroom with tubs and showers and what could be a hot tub but I’m starting to zone out and I’m fighting the need to explore.

 

“Thank you,” Peter tips him, “We’ll call down soon for food,” he turns to watch the man leave and then we’re alone.  “Go on, you clearly want to do something,” Peter lets me go and I hunt around the suite.

 

The kitchen is simple and more for making coffee and keeping fruit in the fridge.  The windows do open up to a balcony that runs the length of our set of rooms.  The toilet is swanky and has marble all over it.  The bathroom isn’t much better and that much marble has to weigh a tonne and must be putting stress on the building’s structure, plus I’m sure it’s cold and easy to slip on when wet.  There’s a giant tub and a separate built in shower, two sinks, and some seriously fluffy robes hanging up.

 

There’s only one more room to look into and that’s the bedroom, the bed is huge and there are more chairs around the place, the window opens onto the same balcony as the living room and we have a giant plasma TV on the wall opposite the bed.

 

I don’t bounce on the bed, I avoid it, and then wander out to see Peter sitting on the sofa waiting for me, “Does it meet with your approval?”

 

“Yes, and dude you have to see the size of the TV,” I jerk a thumb behind me, he huffs a laugh and pats the sofa so I slink over to him and sit like a good little Stiles.

 

“Stiles,” Peter starts off, “We need to talk about our physical relationship,” and I know he can hear my heartbeat speed up, “You’re still hurt from Oren and from the blows I gave you to keep you away from the police.  I’ve never been with a man before so I propose that we do nothing but sleep in the same bed until we get home, and then I’m going to have to learn how to open you without causing you harm,” oh thank god he’s on board with stretching me, “But, I really want to do things with you,” and here it comes, the blow jobs that’ll make me gag and choke, “And I hope that you’re interested in hand holding, having dinner together and spending time in each other’s company.  You are a truly fascinating young man,” and he seems genuine in his statement.

 

“Um...” I have to stop saying that.  “Okay,” the handholding wasn’t bad, I like food and he’s just as fascinating to me.

 

“Good,” his smile is wide, “I’ll put our bags in our room, and I have a request for tonight, please can you sleep in my undershirt, you smell like another wolf and I’d prefer to transfer my scent to you as quickly as possible.”

 

“Not a problem,” I accept his terms and breathe out, a tension unknotting itself from my shoulders as I get the very unexpected bonus of time.

 

Peter vanishes into the bedroom and I go out onto the balcony for some air and to calm myself down, the wind is cold and I only have a t-shirt on but the city is spread out under me and I can see parts of the mountains, but when I crane my neck I can’t see the lake.  I’ll google-fu it as I’m sure the man said we had wifi in our room.

 

Rustling up some menus Peter picks out steak and I’m going to go for the healthy stuff but then I see curly fries and I can’t resist, Peter finds it amusing, “I’ll have to remember your addiction to them, they must have magical healing properties if they can soothe a child in an arcade and now a bruised teen.”

 

He remembered our conversation from this morning.

 

Shrugging I throw myself down onto a sofa and stretch out on my stomach as I connect the I-Pad to the wifi, “Do you want anything in particular on this?” I ask and he says no so I link up to find he’s already registered on some sites with credit sitting there waiting to be used.

 

I surf the options and download some of my favourite tunes, and then add a free game or two to stop me overdosing on classics.  I’m tempted to log onto my Facebook and a few other social sites but I don’t want to piss Peter off, we’re getting on well at the moment and I’m still achy and sore, I don’t want to add to it, not that I have any friends left on Facebook and it’s been over a month since I was last on there and I was down to three friends then.

 

A knock on the door signals our dinner arriving and I’m treated to the sight of grown men wheeling a cart in and then placing covered dishes on the dining table with a flourish and I know there are curly fries under one of the metal domes.  These are the moments I wish dad or Scott were here, they mostly get my sense of humour and would find it as ridiculous as I do.

 

Bouncing over to the table I peek under the metal covers and locating my dinner seat myself and dig in.  One of the delivery guys is giving me a look that screams disapproval so I stuff fries in my mouth and show off my worst manners, he glares at me slightly but the other guy elbows him and they back out.

 

Peter doesn’t tip them this time and is giving them a death look, he keeps his eyes on them until they leave and only then does he wolf out.  Freezing in place I’m not sure what to do as he struggles with his wolf and then he shakes himself and sits, “We’ll pick out engagement rings tomorrow,” his voice has an edge of wolf to it, “I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”

 

“It’s cool,” I try and down play it, “I’m wearing clothes that should be rags, I look like a reject from a fight scene, and I did kinda taunt him.”

 

“I’m aware of that, but people should be able to see beneath that to the real you, they should be respectful to you,” his eyes are turning red and part of me is stunned at his continued verbal acceptance of my awesomeness but the rest is terrified he’s going to attack.

 

“Yeah well Beacon Hills had a rash of ‘animal attacks’ and they refused to see what was right in front of them,” I counter and then realise I’m brining up the murders he committed, “Even my dad, and he used to be aware of my awesomeness, couldn’t solve it,” and that’s a very sore point to me because it’s my dad and I lied to him so much, no wonder he couldn’t trust me in the end, I ruined it.

 

“True,” he’s back to normal and lifting his own metal covered dome to reveal his steak, cooked rare, “But you did, you worked it out.”

 

“Please I had Scott being all wolfy on me, it was easier for me,” I scoff and fill my face, swallowing I carry on, “Nothing like seeing your best friend’s eyes go all glowy to help you really believe,” I’m changing a few facts but that moment did help cement it for me.

 

“So we’re just eating and going to sleep then?” It’s a bit early for me and I’ve been learning meditation to help me stay in one place as I fidget, sometimes I can get it and sometimes I miss, which used to mean Brad would beat me, and Oren would kick me out of bed and I’d have to sleep on the couch once I was tired enough.

 

“Eventually, we can always go for a walk if you’re not tired.”

 

“Really?” I perk up, a walk would start me winding down, it’s what I used to do in Beacon Hills.

 

“Yes, I’ll happily escort you around the grounds and keep you safe on the nearby streets,” he takes a bite of his steak and waves a fork at me, “We’ve been cooped up in the car all day, getting out will be a very pleasant end to the day.”

 

“Cool,” and this thing between us going brilliantly, I know it’s going to take a nose dive soon but I’m determined to enjoy the good bits for as long as I can.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey Angela,” I greet the nice receptionist as I walk into the foyer hand in hand with Peter after our little walk, which mostly consisted of the hotel grounds, they have this courtyard thing out back and gardens and to one side a freaking swimming pool, talk about over the top luxury.

 

I’m wearing Peter’s jacket and he’s in only his shirt as he doesn’t really feel the cold, the warmth of my body is causing the smell of him to rise up, I’m thinking it’s a sneaky way to transfer his scent to me and get on my good side.

 

“Did you have a nice time Stiles?” she asks and the five minutes I spent chatting to her while Peter organised an extra night in the suite is worth it, she’s totally relaxed and not longer thinks Peter’s out to molest me, which he is, but she can’t know that and live.

 

“Awesome, you were right there were lots of things to look at, and the gardens are spectacular at night, loved the way you’ve gotten them lit up, and have you seen the size of the swimming pool?” I wave my free arm around for emphasis.

 

Laughing she hands us the key card to our room, “I’m glad you had fun, I’ll have your information pack ready for you in the morning, and I’ve arranged for a taxi.”

 

“Thanks,” I lean on the desk, “Hey, we’ve had a few changes of plans and we’re gonna use tomorrow for shopping and stuff,” I screw my nose up, “My stuff is kinda dead, Peter said we could stay another day and use that last day for sightseeing, do you know any good shopping areas?”

 

“I’ll add them to the list for you Stiles,” she makes a few notes.

 

“Thanks Angela,” I give her a wave and then take Peter’s hand in both of mine and dance backwards towards the lifts, “Come on Peter, nap time, I’m dead tired,” and I am tired, drained from the toll of today and I may be bouncing on my feet but I can sense the energy crash coming.

 

“Of course Stiles,” and he moves gracefully forward, dipping he somehow gets me into his arms bridal style and I yelp in as manly a way as I can, over his shoulder I can see Angela’s amused at our antics.

 

He holds me the whole ride up and I try and wiggle out of his arms but he gives me a look with a touch of red eye and I subside.  Up the corridor to our room he acts like my weight is negligible, and it probably is, he lets me card the door so he can keep holding me and then he carries me into the bedroom and gently places my feet on the floor.

 

“Thanks,” at least I think its thanks, at this rate I’ll have to hand back my man card.

 

“You’re more than welcome Stiles, I enjoyed carrying you, it pleased me,” he leans forwards and I fight my instinct to flinch back.  His lips caress mine and I get my very first kiss, ever, “I’ll go and change for bed, I’ll leave my undershirt out for you.”

 

I’m left standing there touching my fingers to my lips, oh god please let that be an indication of how careful he’s going to be of me when we have sex.

 

He’s not long and comes out in one of the big fluffy robes, so I skitter past him and close the door for some privacy.  The marble does make the room a little cold and I hurry to strip down to my boxers.  His undershirt is by a sink and I pull it on to stay warm.

 

Laid out is a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste, taking the hint and wanting to have unfuzzy teeth I clean them methodically.  In the mirror my bruises are turning some lovely colours, I twist and check them out, they do look nasty and it’s a wonder the cops weren’t called when we got here.

 

There’s a fluffy robe for me too and it’s so soft I have to stand there and run my fingers over it.  Peeing, I flush the toilet, wash my hands and then I can’t think of any believable reason to hang around in here any longer and I exit the room and go to the bedroom.

 

Peter’s already in bed, he’s taking up the right hand side and I suppose I’m on the left hand side.

 

I can’t see much other than his head over the covers and frankly I’m showing very little skin so I shrug the robe off and get under the covers.  He turns to me, “I’ve put the TV remote on your side, if you want to watch it because you can’t sleep please just turn the volume down for me.”

 

“Okay,” I nod and his hand turns the main light off.

 

Plunged into darkness I lay there and stare at where the ceiling should be, beside me Peter shifts and then goes still, I zero in on his breathing which quickly evens out and yeah he has been driving for hours, werewolf or not, it’s tiring to do that much in one go.

 

Tossing and turning a bit I know I’m close to sleep and as my eyes adjust I can see the unfamiliar glow of the electronics in the room, the soft edge of light surrounding the curtains from the window.  The hotel doesn’t creak but every building has its own noise and the roar of traffic is muted far below us.

 

Sleep tugs at me and I tumble down hopeful of my future for the first time in months.

 

*

 

Sprawled out on my left side I can feel something hot all down my back and an arm is draped over my waist, the hand tucked up against my chest. Someone is breathing into the nape of my neck and I lay there baffled for a few seconds, both Brad and Oren are much taller than me. Whoever it is, is at least wearing underwear but nothing else.

 

Peter.

 

My heart kicks up and I settle it remembering how nice he’s being so far.  Except there’s a hard swollen dick pressed into my back and he so has morning wood.  He’s said he won’t do anything until we’re ‘home’ I should be safe but my heart is refusing to listen to me and my palms are sweating again.

 

“Your fear is delicious,” he murmurs into my neck and I shiver, he might look harmless but Peter is a psycho wolf, and finding my fear delicious is only the tip of his crazy iceberg.

 

His hand on my chest rubs a soothing circle and then I realise it’s right over my heart which pounds faster and faster like a jack hammer, he groans and bucks his hips, “God Stiles, stop, you smell and feel so good like this,” his full body shiver isn’t helping, “I don’t want to take you in fear, I need you to be mine willingly,” he moans the last part and then flings himself away from me.

 

“I need the bathroom,” he whines and the usually debonair Peter lurches at a fast walk from the bedroom, the heel of his hand pressing down on his cock.  He’s only got on a pair of those tight clingy underpants and it hides nothing as he hurries away.

 

Wow, I think he’s going to keep his word and not do anything to me for a while, to the point that he’s extremely aroused and is probably jacking off in the shower.

 

Not wanting to hear anything I turn the TV on and the volume is low, there are cartoons and that’s an excellent way to convince my heart to calm down, his actions so far are not up to his usual psychotic blood drenched standard.

 

Losing myself in the silly animations I glance at the clock and after an hour I’m seriously worried.  Scott and Jackson have both torn up the locker room on more than one occasion and I dread to think of the bill if Peter tears up the bathroom here.

 

Debating with myself I roll my eyes at my stupidity and ease out of bed to go to the bathroom door.  Knocking on it I call out, “Peter?  Are you okay? Do we need to flee the hotel for any reason?”

 

Nothing, though I think the shower is on.

 

Trying the handle I turn it and stick my head around the door, yep the shower is on with a shadow of a man behind the frosted glass and then I hear, “Stiles,” in a drawn out groan mixed with a partial howl and Peter just came.

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” I retreat to the bedroom and get back into bed, oh my god, has he been at it for an hour?  I can’t smell that good to him, can I?

 

The cartoons don’t hold my attention as much and my eyes drift to the bathroom door over and over.  Fidgeting I debate getting the I-Pad from the other room when the phone on the bedside table rings and I jump.

 

“Hello?” My voice is steady and friendly.

 

“This is an alarm call for Mr Hale and Mr Stilinski.  Will you require anything else sir?” The man’s voice is far too bright and bubbly for nearly eight in the morning.

 

“Um, maybe breakfast but we can call that down later, thanks,” I remember a trick one of the deputy’s taught me, if you smile while speaking on the phone it shows in your tone, even if you’re in the shittiest mood it still sounds like you’re happy so I do that.

 

“Thank you sir, I’ll let them know you’ll be calling for breakfast soon. You have a nice day.”

 

“Thanks, you too,” I hang up and the bathroom door finally opens.  “Um, we just had our alarm call, you know the one you ordered…” Please let him be back to harmless.


	12. Chapter 12

He’s mostly back to harmless.  He’s standing there naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his perfect werewolf abs on display and his expression is embarrassed, “The bathroom is free, I’ve left out my shower gel and my shaving things for you.  You may wish to take your robe with you, I unfortunately forgot mine.”

 

There are so many ways I could get myself into trouble right now, but I man up, zip my mouth closed and grab my robe.  Firmly shutting the door behind me I go for a shower and there’s the smell of cum in the air.  Oh dear god how many times did he go?  How the hell am I supposed to survive him having multiple orgasms?

 

Dream Isaac is standing near by and I shudder under his gaze, he was able to survive his abusive father, I can survive Peter.  I’ve successfully bargained with both Brad and Oren in the past, I’m fairly sure I can do the same with Peter.

 

Stripping down I cringe as I step into the shower only all of the evidence is long gone and I’m good at pushing problems away so I turn on the water and pretend everything is fine in the posh marble encrusted bathroom and refuse to entertain thoughts of marble lined tombs.

 

Peter’s shower gel is nice and the smell is extremely faint, which would make sense for his werewolf senses.  His razor isn’t one of those cheap throw away ones it’s a metal frame thing, I would test the sharpness with my finger but after doing that a few times with dad’s I’d learnt that they were in fact _really_ sharp.  The shaving cream is in the same range as the shower gel and I get rid of my smattering of facial hair, for once my face doesn’t feel like it’s been peeled raw.

 

There’s hair products lined up on the counter and I can’t help but smirk that Peter’s fabulous hair needs to be tamed with mousse and the image of him with wild frizzy hair makes me snigger under my breath.

 

Putting my robe on I sneak to the bathroom door and peak out, I can hear him talking on the phone in the lounge and dart unseen to the bedroom door.  Closing it behind me I’m congratulating myself on my tiny victory when I spot the clothes on the bed.

 

And there’s a note resting on top of them.

 

“Stiles, here are some of your clothes that I bought for you, please wear them today.” He hasn’t even signed it and I huff glancing about for the clothes I had on yesterday but he’s one step ahead of me and has already taken them. I take a minute or so to argue in my own head about how creepy this is and whether or not this signals me giving up control to him and frankly I’m well aware that he holds all of the cards compared to my none.

 

Crap.

 

Giving up I take the robe off and put the clothes on, I do want to go out shopping, and I do want to see the sights, and Peter running for the shower instead of attacking me has to be a positive moment in this thing we have going on.

 

Everything fits and it’s not bad, he’s picked a plain t-shirt in blue and a hoodie to match.  My boxers are plain black as are my socks and the jeans are a twist cut that’s surprisingly flattering on me.

 

Walking out I find him standing on the balcony, I know he knows I’m here and he looks over to me with a smile, “I’m glad the clothes fit, we’ll get replacements for them today so you’ll be more comfortable.”

 

And this is another good sign that he won’t be cruel to me like Brad was, and he’s trying to control himself unlike Oren.  All I have to do is not screw this up and I can be a bruise free area.

 

“What happened this morning?” Is out of my mouth before I can censor it and I wince, damn you brain to mouth filter, why won’t you work?  And if it doesn’t work I’ve often wondered how you get it replaced, because is it like a net?  And if it is like a net then can you repair it and reweave part of the net, because they do that to fishing nets on those documentaries on TV and I’ve even had a go and had to wait three hours for dad to get home from work to cut me loose again.

 

Or has part of my net come loose and is now floating about my brain strangling ideas that are innocently swimming past, and that would explain things…

 

“Stiles,” Peter is right in front of me and I shriek in as manly a way as I can as I leap backwards flailing my arms.  “You need to have breakfast and then take a dose of Adderall,” a menu is being held out and I take it gingerly.

 

“Um,” I flick through the choices, I’ve done plenty of research on ADHD and I did have junk food last night so today I’ll avoid the obvious carbs and stick to fruit and then eggs for protein to keep me going until lunch, and they have freshly squeezed orange juice.  I mumble it to Peter who nods and then phones our order down.

 

Restless I prowl around the suite and poke at things I was too tired to last night.  There aren’t a lot of things stored in the cabinets, I guess they’re more for decoration than anything or for guests to keep things in there but what would a guest keep in there?

 

Roaming into the kitchen I go through every drawer and cupboard exploring and then getting bored I find Peter sitting on the sofa scrolling through something on his phone, passing through I end up in the bedroom and explore the built in wardrobe and cupboards.

 

They’re all empty and I discover a small safe at the back of one of them.  There’s the obligatory bible in the bedside table and I run out of things to explore so I head to the bathroom.

 

The marble is no less tacky this time around, there are two hairdryers, the lights on the mirrors are blinding if you catch them wrong and I blink furiously to clear my eyes of flashing spots, and I now know where the extra towels and blankets are kept.

 

“Stiles,” Peter calls out, “Breakfast is here,” and right on cue my stomach rumbles.

 

My breakfast is good and I notice that Peter has mostly meat on his, there are hams and sliced sausage, and two pieces of toast he slathers in honey.  Cleaning up the last of my scrambled eggs I see him pull out the normal jar of Adderall I have and he measures out a dose for me, “There you go.”

 

Knocking the medication back I sip on my orange juice and watch him finish off his toast.  He doesn’t lick his fingers he wipes them on a handy napkin.  Then he drinks his coffee and we sort of enter into a staring contest, I’m not doing it on purpose but my eyes catch his and they really are incredibly blue.

 

“Thank you,” his voice startles me and I must have said that out loud.  “Are you getting less restless now?”  He drinks more coffee and I really want coffee, but me and coffee are a bad combination.

 

“Getting there,” I tell him and my brain is starting to slow down to focus more on things and I know I’ll soon be able to concentrate and not get so distracted.

 

“Good, in that case I’ll answer your question from earlier,” and I tense not a hundred percent sure I want to know the answer to my question.  “The last time I did anything sexual was before the fire, so it’s been a while for me,” my jaw drops, “You smelt amazing and your body is incredibly tempting at the best of times,” oh my god, he thinks I’m tempting, “That led to a much longer than usual bout of releasing that pent up pressure…”

 

“Oh thank god,” I breathe out interrupting him, “I thought you were going to want the werewolf equivalent of multiple and I was going to die the first time we ever did anything,” I sprawl in my chair in relief as Peter blinks at me in shock.

 

“No, I may be a werewolf and I have lots of stamina and a fast recovery time but this morning was not a normal thing,” he seems to be at a loss of words.

 

“Cool, so when are we going out shopping and do you know what time lunch is?” my knees bounce up and down and he goes quiet again.

 

“Hmm, we can leave after you’ve brushed your teeth and we can stop for lunch when you get hungry…” he says and I flee the table ready to hit the city and do something.  Plus he’s calmed me down, this morning was a freak thing for him, and really, no jerking off for over seven years?  No wonder he was at it so much.

 

Also as much as I’m completely freaked out about this whole having sex thing with him, I’m in Salt Lake City for the first time in my life and I’m going to enjoy it, I’ll push the inevitable physical thing to the back of my mind because been there and done that, and right now I’ve not done being a tourist.


	13. Chapter 13

Peter’s big meeting, for his packages he’s hoping to make money on, is at a giant bookshop, but it’s a confusing jumbled up mess inside.  The bookshelves don’t match and have clearly been bought second if not third hand.  Books from every genre and type litter the shelves and handy tables throughout the shop.

 

It smells of paper and dust. Sunlight filters down from windows in the roof and alleviates most of the gloom while strategically positioned standing lights throw patches of illumination around.

 

There are sofas and seats in strange places with nooks and crannies all over.  Checking out the closest shelf of books I follow the maze like interior until I’m lost in a book nirvana.

 

Running my fingers over the titles I laugh to myself as I find Shakespeare next to the latest pop psychology book, myths next to car repair manuals, there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it and I lose myself in exploring.

 

And then I rediscover an old childhood book; I slip it from the shelf and make myself comfortable on a nearby chaise long thing.  I’m drawn back to the time my mom would read to me and I chant the silly poems under my breath.

 

I follow that book with an adventure book, one in which no one ever dies and they always make it home in time for tea and they always save the day.

 

A soft cough and I glance up to see Peter waiting for me, “Sorry,” I scramble to my feet and put the book back.

 

“Don’t be.  Did you have fun?” He asks.

 

“Dude, this place is amazing,” I wave a hand, “Crazy, but amazing.”

 

“I thought you’d like it,” he takes my hand and he’s leading me out of the maze and then out of the shop to the street.  He’s held my hand since we left the hotel and been nothing but a gentleman to me.

 

“So did you get what you came here for?” I ask as he guides us down a busy sidewalk, I’m craning my neck trying to see everything at once.

 

“Yes,” there’s a pleased tone and I flick my eyes to see the most self satisfied expression it makes me chuckle and his grin gets bigger, “Not only did he have the two books I wanted, he’d managed to get the third book in the series making it complete, and they’re all in excellent condition, which means my buyer is going to pay me a lot of money and probably a bonus.”

 

“Awesome,” I bump his shoulder with mine, “Congratulations on the big hunt, you totally brought down the big game today,” I tease him a little and please dear god let him have a sense of humour that’s at least partially compatible with mine.

 

He laces our fingers together and bumps my shoulder back, “Yes I did, didn’t I.  Oh and Stiles?”

 

“Yeah Peter?” He hasn’t been threatening and I’m staring at the sightseeing bus going past.

 

“Wolf and predator jokes are fine, and that was both funny and complimentary, but do not do dog jokes,” he warns me and I nod accepting the restriction, I have tons of wolf jokes to work my way through.  “Good, now that my chore is over, let’s get your engagement ring,” my feet stumble at that and I’d thought he’d forgotten.

 

It’s one thing to know that some time in the future we will be co-habiting and that he’ll be demanding sex from me, even marrying me to keep me as his.  It’s another to walk around with his ring on my finger and advertising that we’re ‘together’.  With Brad and Oren I could pretend I was free when they were away from me, a ring makes it more permanent, more real.

 

My hands are sweating again and I wipe my free one on my jeans, Peter’s eyes slide to me over and over as we walk and I can feel my breath getting shorter and shallower.

 

Dragging me to one side, he takes us out of the flow of traffic, and then stands there holding me as I fight off the panic attack and cling to him.  Since he’s the main reason I’m panicking, it’s ironic that I’m clutching at him to try and stave off the attack.

 

“Listen to my breathing,” he tells me and I close my eyes to hear it even as I feel his chest rise and fall steadily.  Blanking my mind I focus as best I can until the panic is gone and I’m standing in his arms on a busy street.  “Better?” A hand soothingly rubs my back.

 

“Yes, thank you,” and here’s another sign that I will probably be able to survive our future together, I’m not convinced he’s not a nutjob but he has a better handle on it than he used to.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks and I stiffen against him.  “I’ll take that as a no, but Stiles, I am your Alpha, I will take care of you and I’ll do my best to make you as happy as I can.”

 

My shoulders relax and I nod into his shoulder, as we’re almost the same height this is a little weird.

 

“Good, now we will go and look at rings, and we will pick the ones out that we like…”

 

“We?” I thought it was just me getting a ring so he can show possession of me.

 

“Yes, I have to show the world that I belong to you too,” he sounds reasonable so I dare to pull back and stare into his blue eyes while trying not to challenge him.

 

“So not just me then?” It’s a dumb question as he’s already answered it.

 

“No, not just you,” he tilts his head, “Did you think it was just you?” I shrug instead of answering, “You’re not a girl Stiles, yet you have the same incredible inner strength of a woman all mixed in with the strength of a man,” he muses, “Perhaps that is why you call to me so strongly, I find your intelligence and strength very attractive.”

 

And he’s back to giving me compliments I’m not sure I deserve, no ones ever found me attractive before, annoying, loud, persistent, awkward and embarrassing, those traits I’m used to, but attractive is new.

 

“You don’t believe me,” he’s shocked, “Stiles we are going to have to talk about your self esteem issues one day, but for now, please allow me the honour of putting a ring on your finger, and one on my own to signal to everyone that I am very serious about you and that you are no longer on the market and I will KILL anyone who can not take a hint that you are for me and me alone,” for a second his eyes blaze red and then fade to blue.

 

“Okay,” I don’t want an enraged Alpha werewolf rampaging here so I let him hold my slightly sweaty hand and lead me through Salt Lake City to pick out a ring I have no interest in getting.

 

While Peter’s little declaration of how awesome I am is a major ego boost, it gives me a new problem to try to plan around.  What happens when Peter realises I’m not awesome?  My relationship with my dad floundered and died because I kept lying to him to protect Scott and then the pack, to the point it broke down completely, and then after he started dating that gold digging tramp and her money draining brood, all it took was her son getting caught with drugs, and blaming me, for my world to partly end and I lost my dad and my home when the tramp kicked me out because my dad couldn’t bare to face me anymore.

 

Thank god for Derek and his den of despair.  Moving in with him and Isaac wasn’t so bad but of course I had to finish crushing on that brooding Alpha and fall in love with him.  I hadn’t even realised I was the Omega of the fledgling pack, poor Derek, he does try to protect us, and there was me flinging myself at him, until he agreed to take what I offered willingly.  He might not have been gentle all the time, but he never hurt me, he never pushed me into things I didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with before hand.

 

The moment of peace didn’t last. 

 

The pack kept getting challenged, I got hurt a few times, and then Derek ordered me to stay out of the fights because of it, and I tried so hard not to get in the way, to actually be useful, only I was reduced to research, to housework, to keeping out of their way during the important bits.

 

I refuse to think about the verbal fights we had over that, looking back I’m lucky he didn’t beat me for overstepping my boundaries as an Omega.  I’d still go back in a heartbeat if it were possible.  I’d wait as patiently as I could for the crumbs of his attention, he was always being pulled in so many directions at once, I did everything I could think of to ease what burdens I could for him.

 

My schoolwork dropped slightly, I was benched again at Lacrosse, and it didn’t matter how much I did for everyone else I couldn’t catch a break, no one was there when I needed it and if I’d just been better, stronger, something more than a hyperactive bastard with ADHD, maybe Derek and Scott wouldn’t have almost died on me, I could have saved them so much pain, I could have gotten them out sooner instead of failing them.

 

After that I tried even harder to do better, but I’m not the hero, I’m not the one that wins the day and I pushed myself to be more without success.  I was so glad when summer was in sight because no more Mr Harris and his constant detentions for nothing.  No more coach berating me for not being tough enough to take hits like the werewolves could.

 

But I got sick before summer and the medical insurance we had barely stretched to cover the medication I needed.  They said the chest infection wasn’t getting better, that it was probably the subway station making it worse and Derek told me I couldn’t stay there anymore.

 

Scott already had a spare room for me and I convalesced for a week when I overheard him and Mrs McCall arguing about money, about how tight their budget was, even with the minimum wage I was pulling in for being my age and at school it wasn’t enough.  And then they talked about my dad and how he’d asked that woman to marry him, to adopt her brats who were horrible and disrespectful to him. Lastly a new female Alpha had sauntered into town and she’d propositioned Derek, she’d join him for a few years and give him a stable partnership, even children for him to keep, but as a werewolf she couldn’t accept him having an affair with a human male at the same time, it was her or me; she could back him up where I couldn’t, where I wasn’t good enough in a fight she’d be able to step in and do serious damage to an enemy.

 

It took me two hours to work through all the pros and cons and I had only one single thought at the end of it.

 

They were all better off without me. 

 

The following day I left a short note, and slipped out of the house to the bus stop, it wasn’t that long until I was in Sacramento ready to start a werewolf free life.

 

That’s all running through my head on a loop when Peter stops and I look up to see a very large and fancy jewellery store in front of us.

 

“No,” I yank my hand out of his, “No,” and I turn and run off blindly chased by a past I’ll never outrun.

 

Oh god, Peter’s going to kill me slowly when he finds out how very unstrong I am. 


	14. Chapter 14

The city passes me in a blur and I keep running in sneakers with large holes in them, I have no ID, no money, no nothing except the memories in my head urging me on, it’s not a true panic attack but it’s close.

 

A stitch in my side starts growing, my feet ache and a cramp threatens, only then do I slow down and jog gently along a few blocks trying not to think about the jaywalking I’ve committed or the near misses with traffic as I dashed out in front of cars and vans.

 

There’s an opening to one side and I’m in a small park, a handy bench is waiting for me to collapse onto with a groan and I mentally kick myself for being stupid.  I have no way to communicate with Peter, who’s probably going to tear my throat out and I don’t care, I’m just so damn tired.

 

“Crap,” I lean forward and bury my face in my hands, I’ve messed up again, he’s never going to let me live now, and he might try and hurt my dad because of me.  “Crap,” I mutter again, and I’m so tired of everything.  Of not being good enough at anything else except screwing up.

 

The guidance councillor said that when you’re in hell you should keep walking, that if you’re drowning you should hold your breath for those few precious seconds more.  But I’m so tired.  So tired of being lonely, of being overlooked, of destroying other peoples lives, of hurting so much all the time, of not being in control of my own brain.

 

With the adrenaline of my flight draining out of me I can feel all those lovely bruises pulling at me, and a spot between my shoulder blades itches. I know there’s no where I can run to that Peter can’t find me, time to face the music.  “Now how do I get back to the hotel and more importantly to Peter?” I start looking for street signs and I’m going to have to ask for directions so I can go to my own funeral.

 

“The hotel is easy, we’ll get a cab, and I’m right here,” comes Peter’s voice from behind me.  I yell, flail and fall off the bench I’m sitting on to gape at him standing there calmly.

 

“Peter,” I press a hand to my chest, damn werewolves and their sneaking up behind people.

 

“Stiles,” he sits down on the bench and looks at me thoughtfully, though his eyes are flashing red then blue, “Do you want to tell me what that was about?” He’s not outwardly angry and seems more curious than anything, though with Peter it’s often hard to tell, he’s probably waiting to lure me somewhere before killing me.

 

“Not really,” I sigh and pick myself up to sit next to him, “But I should.”  Composing myself I tell him the truth, “You’ve made a mistake.  I’m not strong, I’m not the hero, I’m barely an Omega.  If you keep me with you I’ll wreck your life Peter, I’ll destroy things without meaning to and you’ll regret being with me.  I’m nothing special.  In the end you’ll realise you’re better off without me that a Stiles free existence is the way to go.

 

“It’s my fault that Scott got bitten, it was my idea to go tromping in the woods to try and find half a dead body,” and the guilt still eats at me.  “I helped get Derek arrested because he buried his sister’s body and then again at the school when you attacked him and he nearly died.  Because of me so many people nearly died and my dad got hurt several times and even got fired once.”

 

I hug my arms around me and face the truth, “I really did try and keep up with the wolves, but I’m only human, and I’m glad I didn’t take the bite from you, I’d have made a terrible werewolf, I have impulse control issues, not exactly something you want when you’re a werewolf.”

 

A hand on my shoulder stops me, “Stiles,” he pauses and I wait for him to nod and walk away from me, or kill me, “You are many things and right now you’re an idiot,” and I am an idiot, “But believe me when I say that I picked the right boy in the woods that night, Scott is a very stupid, ungrateful little puppy but I nearly won the battle against him and my nephew, and I nearly got control of the pack again when I came back from the dead.  The only thing that’s saved them for so long, not only from my plotting, but everything else, is you, not that they bothered to listen to you half of the time.”

 

Another hand reaches up to turn my face to him, “If I had bitten you that night in the woods instead of Scott, I now know I would have lost faster, you’d be the Alpha and I’d never have been able to come back from the dead, you’d have made sure of that.”

 

I don’t believe him.

 

“Stiles,” his fingers on my face stroke my jaw, “Everyone, including you, underestimates you.  You flail around in that adorable uncoordinated way of yours, your mouth runs on with the strangest of facts and thoughts, yet you taught Scott more about control in a few days than the most experienced of Alphas can teach the newly bitten in a few months.  You put together the facts and linked them so that the truth about Kate,” he snarls her name, “Was known, you’ve never faltered in being loyal even when those around you abandoned you.  Even Gerard realised how dangerous you were and tried to remove you from the end game of the Kanima disaster, an end game you still turned up to bringing the much needed Lydia with you.”

 

Those blue eyes appear to be genuine but then Peter’s crazy, which I helpfully point out, “Um, you realise you’re technically not the sanest person on the planet, right?”

 

“I’m aware of my mental imbalance,” he concedes, “I’ve found it helps to free me from those pesky moral constraints others suffer from, another reason I need you so much, you’ll help me stay more level headed and less likely to commit mass murder.” He’s back to being matter of fact, “And I truly find you fascinating, I can’t guess at most of your actions, while your ADHD and being human give you significant challenges in matching me, allowing me to be the greater force in this relationship, yet keeping you as the Alpha or budding Alpha I know you are.”

 

“Alpha?” Now I know he’s playing me and I glare at him.

 

“Alpha.  You Stiles are, or will be, an Alpha.  And yes humans can be Alphas, in fact a pack with humans in it will be more stable, more resourceful and if they’re lucky enough to have a human Alpha alongside their werewolf Alpha, whether or not they’re in a relationship, the pack will flourish and grow holding territories wisely and only the most fool hardy take on those packs,” his fingers are still brushing my jaw and then he cups my neck, “Stiles, I’ve spent the time Derek kicked me out of his territory working on finding my own territory, I’ve found a nice den, I’ve built up a business, I can provide for us both, come with me, let me show you and you’ll see how much you’re worth, let me prove it to you.”

 

Swallowing I’m caught up in his blue eyes again, he terrifies me and yet he’s very charismatic.  Before I can say anything he kisses me softly, his lips move over mine and aren’t demanding in the slightest.  I freeze and let him kiss me, this is only my second ever kiss and it’s nice, it’s not bad, lips touching mine is a good thing, a nice thing. It’s so much better than him killing me.

 

When Peter pulls away from me I go to follow and he smiles at me, “I didn’t push you did I? I did say nothing would happen until we got home.  If you want to wait…”

 

“No.  No, you didn’t push me, kissing is fine,” I look at his mouth for a few seconds and then he’s kissing me again.  This time I hesitantly kiss him back trying to match how he moves and this is even better, I press into him wanting something and the hand on my jaw slips around to the back of my head reeling me into him.

 

I’ve read so much about kissing and sex, and I’ve watched way too much porn, but I’ve never understood how you ‘deepen’ a kiss, except he does and this flash of something runs through me as I cock my head to one side giving him more access.  Our mouths are closed and we’re not doing much but I wave a hand and grab his shirt struggling to get some kind of purchase as I get a little dizzy and I wrench myself back from him when tiny flickers of desire and lust start up.

 

I’m panting and confused, what the hell just happened, how did he do that to me?  I lick my dry and tingling lips to see his eyes trace the path of my tongue.  If reading about kissing is suddenly making sense I wonder what kissing with tongues would do and I throw myself back from him not trusting myself to find out.

 

“Stiles?” He’s concerned and I wave it off trying to get my breath back.  “You have been kissed before, haven’t you?” He asks and I flush as I shake my head, “Oh,” he rears back his eyes wide, “Then if you allow me to kiss you again I’ll tone it down…”

 

“We can do that again?” I’m in two minds about that but I liked the kissing and zero in on his tempting mouth confused on how this is going to impact on us and our ‘relationship’.

 

“If you want to,” he’s studying me again and stands up offering me a hand, “Are you ready to pick out a ring now?  I promise that I truly do want you in my life Stiles, I was willing to risk the wrath of Derek and his pathetic puppies to come and coax you to me.”

 

I know I don’t have much of a choice, if I go with Peter willingly he’s already proven he’ll be gentle with me, I’ve seen his style of ‘persuasion’ in the past and I really don’t want it.  He’s also been nice to me and his brand of crazy apparently has a Stiles appreciation add on pack, as well as the fact he’s the only person in the world to want to kiss me, as reasons go that one is a bit pathetic, but apparently I can be pathetic and I’m getting tired of fighting and getting nowhere.

 

Putting my hand in his I let him draw me to my feet and a giant smile breaks out over his face, “Thank you Stiles, thank you for giving me this chance to prove how good I can be to you.”  It’s not lost on me that he holds my hand tightly and weaves our fingers together so it’ll be harder for me to pull my hand out of his and run away.


	15. Chapter 15

Bright lights reflect off the many shiny surfaces around me as I wander around the jewellery store with Peter, a pushy saleswoman tries to earn her commission and fails dismally.  Neither of us has liked any of the rings she’s shown us so far and she’s getting desperate.

 

Peter’s waved around our future wedding rings and it turns out they’re plain platinum bands, he’s going to get them engraved when we both agree on the engraving.  To do that he dropped my hand and I massage feeling back into it.

 

Unsettled from my earlier panic and from his kisses, which are still confusing the hell out of me, I edge away and leave him to deal with her, she’s too forceful and isn’t listening to him, it’s an interesting experiment to see how long he’ll last before he snaps at her, already there’s a red glint in his eyes.

 

Mooching through the store I escape from them and explore, though I’m careful to stay well away from the exits in case Peter follows after me and thinks I’m running away from him, the store is huge and laid out across three different levels, I amuse myself and check out a long display of the classic gemstones.  I’ve known diamonds come in different colours but I’ve not seen them before and the canary yellows and pale blues are okay, the black is strange and then I’m among rubies and emeralds.

 

Sapphires turn out to come in different colours too, there are the traditional blues, and there are pinks and oranges, even greens.  One necklace is made up of a rainbow of sapphires and I have to admit I’m impressed, I’m also curious as to what elements are fused with the sapphire to cause that.  I’ll google-fu it at the hotel.

 

I’m about to walk away when a ring catches my eye and I lean in to see a silver coloured ring and in the middle of it is a square cut sapphire, the card beside it reads ‘colour change sapphire’.  The stone is red, but the card has a picture of the ring and it has a blue sapphire and beside it is exactly the same picture but with the red sapphire.

 

“Colour change?” I murmur.

 

“Yes sir,” a male voice says smoothly and I jump as the employee glides closer, “Very rare sapphires have the fascinating ability to change colour depending on the type of light they’re in, this particular stone is mostly blue, with a dash of purple under sunlight; and then in artificial light, as it is here, it’s red with a dash of purple.”  He points to the card, “The photographs let you see the full range of this change.”

 

“Huh,” I study the ring and it seems similar to the wedding rings Peter’s picked out, plain and solid, the square sapphire is the only decoration on it.  “Can you wait right here and not let anyone buy it just yet?” I ask the man and he nods with a smile.  Now that is my kind of salesperson.

 

Hurrying back the way I came I can see Peter’s calm facade is breaking rapidly so I call out, “Peter!”  Waving I bound over, “I think I’ve just found the ring for you,” I’m pleased that I’m doing something right for once, even if it is binding me closer to him when I’d prefer to be on my own.

 

Grabbing his hand I tug him to follow and he really must want to get away from the woman because he doesn’t argue with me.  The salesman is right where I left him and he stands up straighter as I drag Peter over, “There,” I point, “That one, it’s a colour change sapphire, it’s blue in sunlight and red in artificial light,” and I wait for Peter to get the hidden meaning about his eyes.

 

He doesn’t disappoint and chuffs a laugh at me, squeezing my hand gently, “Then lets see it up close,” he motions to the man who’s realised he’s no longer indulging a penny-less kid and might get a sale out of this. 

 

The salesman handles the ring, which turns out to be platinum, and takes it into the light and yep it changes colour to blue, then back to the case where it’s red.  Peter glances at me and then nods, “Done, we’ll take it, can you measure it for my finger?”

 

At this point they mess around with what looks like a bunch of keys but turns out to be rings that Peter and the man fuss over.  The ring is going to have to be resized and there’s a jewellery maker on hand to do that, we’re invited to sit and have coffee as they deal with it and the store manager himself ushers us to a set of love seats.

 

In the background the original saleswoman looks like she’s swallowed a lemon and glares at the salesman who grins mockingly at her.  No love lost there then.

 

Quickly bored my knees are jiggling when Peter taps one of them, “You can continue looking around the shop if you want,” he offers and I’m released to prowl around some more, pleased that he’s letting me out of his sight and trusting me not to do anything too stupid.

 

I wind my way through and find myself in a different section, this part looks less expensive and the jewellery isn’t so refined, it has more shape to it and I’m browsing the necklaces, some of which have leather cords, when I notice some rings that are different.

 

“Sir?” A woman is standing there, “Are you looking for thumb rings?”

 

“Is that what they are?  They’re not the same as the others,” she opens the case up and lifts the tray of rings out.  The base of the ring is plain but in the middle is another ring that you can spin around the original ring and that one’s decorated with various symbols.

 

Some of the rings are silver, or gold and a few are platinum ones. I find an awesome gold one with tiny wolf shapes running round it and a mini crescent moon that if you trace it around the ring waxes full and then wanes again in an endless cycle.

 

There’s also a platinum one whose inner ring has mock letters running around it, you can almost make out words but it changes every time you spin the ring.  I could stare at them for hours.

 

Holding up the platinum one I ask, “I don’t suppose this counts as an engagement ring does it?” If it does I could convince Peter to get it or the gold one for me.

 

Amused she shakes her head, “Sorry sir, not normally, but if you really like them they would do, or I could help you find another one for your young lady?”

 

“Oh, no, the ring is for me, there are no girls in this relationship,” and I flush realising what I’ve just said.

 

“Okay, what kind of thing are you looking for?” She asks not the slightest bit flustered by my rambling.

 

“I have no idea,” I jerk my thumb backwards toward the rest of the shop, “We’ve wandered through there and found one for Peter, but the rest are either big chunky things or...” I flap my hand and she nods seemingly understanding, or more likely really good at dealing with difficult customers.

 

“Right, well we have two possible choices so far,” she leaves the two thumb rings out and puts the rest away.  “You’ll notice most engagement rings have a single stone, or a stone surrounded by diamonds,” she starts pulling other trays out and placing them on the countertops, “Now what metal are you looking for?”

 

“Our wedding rings are platinum,” I try and be helpful and get a smile from her, as she hunts high and low for rings.

 

Twenty minutes later I’ve rejected everything she’s shown me when a stone I’ve never seen before makes me stop and stare.  It’s not any one colour, each facet is a different colour, there’s purple, green, blue, red, brown and hints of yellow.  Picking up the ring I waggle it and the colours all move.

 

“Mystic topaz,” she says, “It’s made from clear topaz and they add a tiny layer of titanium to the bottom.” I nod fascinated by it and more determined than ever to learn about the different gemstones out there.

 

Its an oval shaped stone set in platinum and the ring itself is made up of thin strands of platinum woven together.  The whole band isn’t that thick or heavy, but it’s not girly either.

 

We check out a few more rings but I’m drawn to the topaz one and I think I’ve found it, “This one, but I need to check with Peter first,” she puts it to one side with the other two and I go off to find Peter paying for his ring and accepting the little bag it’s in.  “Hey, I think I’ve got my one sorted,” and then he happily tags along back to the counter my possible ring is on.

 

“What kind of stone is it?” He asks as absorbed by the colours as I am.

 

I spout off my newfound knowledge and then he notices the other two rings, he plays with them and nods, “Well Stiles, it seems you found our engagement rings for us, and if you like them would you like to add the thumb rings too?”

 

“Really?” I’m taken aback that he’s being so generous when I’m not putting out until we get to Wolf Creek.

 

“Really,” he nods and now it’s my turn to have my fingers measured and the woman takes one look at my fingers and narrows down the sizes, I have to slip the loops of the keyring thing over my fingers and off easily but still have enough resistance I won’t lose the rings.

 

As my rings are stock items, and not bespoke like Peter’s, she only has to go to storage to get mine.  I walk out of the store with a little baggie holding my engagement ring and I’m allowed to wear my new thumb rings now, which are heavy and weird, as I’m not used to them.

 

Peter has a plan for this evening for our engagement rings, it involves dinner and dressing up nicely.  After everything I’ve learnt about this wolf I’m shocked that he might have a romantic streak.

 

He grabs my hand and holds it firmly as he leads me off to go and get some clothes and other things he considers ‘essential’.


	16. Chapter 16

Clothes shopping with Peter consists of me standing there while the shop assistants scurry about like frantic ants and Peter alternates between snarks and sassy comments.

 

Another shirt is held up to my chest and Peter eyes it up, “No, the cut’s wrong for you and the colour doesn’t match your skin,” personally I can’t tell the difference, and when he has a large number of shirts and suits over one arm I’m marched off to the changing rooms and forced to try everything on.

 

He has good taste, nearly everything fits me and there’s that special something that adds to my reflection, I’m officially impressed with what he’s picked, I just hope I don’t have to wear it everyday, I prefer my normal layered attire.

 

Finished being a dress up toy I lace up my holey sneakers and spot Peter causing havoc at the cashiers, he’s obviously decided what I’m keeping for our dinners out and other things he wants to do, he’s mentioned art galleries and the theatre.  My life is never going to be the same if he drags me along to those with him.

 

He’s even got them to deliver our purchases to the hotel so we don’t have to carry them around with us.  We leave and behind me I can see the manger is pleased with the sales but everyone else looks exhausted and like they’ve been hit by a tornado in the shape of Peter.

 

I’m worried he won’t let me buy the type of clothes I want but he lets me loose in a lower end shop and refrains from too many comments, occasionally he takes something out of my hands and puts it back so I move on.

 

Soon I’m weighed down by lots of jeans, various t-shirts with motifs, hoodies, over shirts, brightly coloured socks, some jogging pants and a few t-shirts to match, and four pairs of shoes which are made up of trainers and converse.  He won’t let me buy my normal boxers for underwear and insists I get these tight clingy trunk things instead.

 

“Well that will do for now,” he sweeps me towards the tills, “If you need anything else let me know.”

 

I’ve got more than enough and nod happily clutching my loot to my chest.

 

My stomach rumbles and he finds a nice restaurant we can sit down in and put all the bags on the floor, giving some relief to my aching fingers where the handles have bitten in and cut off the blood supply.  Full and stated it’s with a grimace I lift my share of the bags and trundle out after him.

 

Expecting to go back to the hotel with my mound of bags I’m startled when he steers me into an electronics store and proceeds to terrorise the staff with his demands until I’m the proud owner of a new I-Phone and I-Pod.  Then he accessories with speakers and leads to link everything to the I-Pad and to his macbook.

 

After that it’s a stop off to get some luggage so I can carry my new clothes on our road trip

 

Only then does he let us go back to the hotel with our purchases and I’m fairly sure we’re a hilarious sight as I struggle under my half of the load and he glides along effortlessly under his as per normal.

 

The earlier things are already at the hotel and have been sent up to our room for us.  I’m so glad we have an elevator and don’t have to use the stairs, it’s difficult enough as it is.  Once we’re in our room all he does is drop off the bags, puts the electronic gadgets on charge and then I’m being taken out again to go sit on a sight seeing bus to make sure I see something of the city today.

 

As the bus is open top I have good views of everything and our guide is fairly funny, her comments are just this side of hilarious.  It doesn’t feel like I’ve been sitting down for nearly two hours but when we reach the end and hop off the bus it really has been that long and I’m stunned when I check my watch.

 

“So you enjoyed it?” Peter asks and I babble on about what she said even though he was sitting next to me the whole time, “Good, if there was somewhere in particular you wanted to see our tickets are valid for tomorrow as well.”

 

“Awesome,” I’m too keyed up to be still and we walk slowly back to the hotel.

 

“And,” he’s staring up at the sky frowning, “If you want to we can go sailing tomorrow, the lake is there after all.  Or we can play it by ear and do what we feel at the time. The weather might be changing soon, I can smell the water in the air.”

 

“Hey, if it’s nice we can go play on the lake and if it’s bad we can do indoor stuff,” I suggest and he nods.  He’s been in a good mood since we talked in the park and an epic mood since the jewellery shop, I clear my throat, “So, what are doing tonight?  You said something about dinner?”

 

“Hmm?  Oh I thought we could have a nice dinner for two in the hotel’s restaurant, they have a world-class menu, and then we could go for a short walk around the gardens before bedtime.  They’re hosting a small band in the restaurant, and some classical things outside,” he smiles at me, “And I’d like to give you your engagement ring tonight,” he knows something I don’t and he’s pleased about it.

 

Nodding, I pretend I have the power to tell him no, and he raises my hand held in his to his lips, the merest brush of his mouth on my knuckles and he’s being romantic again.

 

In our suite of rooms he goes off to shower and get ready leaving me to play on the I-Pad though I end up using google to read up on sapphires and the chemical make up that leads to the different colours including Peter’s one.  The placement of the gem lodes leads me to the formation of gems and how each of them is created, the pressures and raw materials, and that red sapphires are called rubies, they’re both made from the same materials.

 

“Stiles,” he’s standing next to me and I grunt caught up in how a star sapphire differs and the inclusions with in it form the perfect six lined star.  And since sapphires and rubies are essentially the same, that’s why you get star rubies too.  “Stiles,” he tries again, “I’ve put some clothes out for you, you may want to shower first.”

 

“’Kay,” I mutter and then finish the article I’m on, logging off I put the I-Pad down and he’s dressed in a very nice black suit with a red shirt paired with a red and black tie.  “Dude, looking good,” I compliment him and go for my own shower.

 

Stepping down from the shower to the cold marble floor I can see myself in the full-length mirror.  Peering at my naked body I try and see if there’s anything attractive about me and I can’t see it.  I’m covered in bruises, my ribs show a little, okay I’m theoretically lean which this day and age is supposedly a good thing.

 

Shrugging I wrap a towel around me and sneak into the bedroom where he’s left me more clothes out.  He’s picked those damn tight clingy trucks in blue, a pair of black or dark navy slacks, black socks and a pale blue shirt with dark blue tie.  He’s even put out cuff links for the shirt.  My new black trainers are on the side and I grin to myself at being allowed to get away with wearing them.

 

Dream Lydia is sitting on one of the chairs filing her nails she nods, “You look good, better than those horrible t-shirts you insist on wearing,” I roll my eyes at her and get a smile before she vanishes again.

 

Dressed I go to discover he’s out on the balcony again, “Hey, I’m done,” I walk over to him and we both know he heard me long before I said anything.

 

“So you are,” his eyes run over me and it’s almost bad touch but he smiles, “Stiles you are truly a sight behold and incredibly handsome,” oh, my stomach swoops in a good way.

 

“Thanks, you too,” I wiggle out of the compliment.

 

“Oh I know,” he sasses and adjusts his cuffs, “But I don’t think you realise how amazing you are.  Now, are you ready for dinner?”

 

“Starving,” I admit and we ride the elevator down to the posh dinning room where soft background music plays, courtesy of the band he mentioned.  We get waited on and fussed over by the staff and I’m stuck staring at a menu filled with strangely named food.

 

Willing to try new things I narrow it down and when we order my attention is drawn to the band and the melody they’re playing, it’s only a damn rock song but reworked for the setting and I laugh.

 

Peter lifts an eyebrow at me, and that is so a werewolf thing, but I answer his unasked question and lean forward whispering about the band and then they play a punk song followed by an older heavy metal song that Peter knows and we both laugh and try to name those songs.

 

So far so good, my little slip up with two panic attacks hasn’t ruined this thing between us.


	17. Chapter 17

Strolling in the gardens we stop at the different areas that have been set up and listen in to the musicians playing.  They’re all following the same theme as the band inside and I’m nodding along to a popular Top 40 tune being strummed on a harp.  I never thought I’d like classical music but this is fun.

 

We move on to some violinists and a pianist, they’re playing Bat out of Hell by Meatloaf, the main tune is recognisable on the piano but the violinists are doing something around the theme and it adds to it.  I have to close my eyes to concentrate on the music and split it all out, it’s kinda cool.

 

It’s really fascinating and then we’re in one of the quiet corners of the garden, by a fountain, and Peter’s hand is sweaty in mine, he gets me to sit on the edge of the fountain beside him and he even looks nervous.

 

Fishing in his pocket he has our engagement ring boxes, “Stiles,” his voice breaks and I’ve never seen him like this, it’s like he believes I can say no to him, when we both know I can’t.  “Stiles,” he starts again, “Damn, I had a speech I was going to do.”

 

Not wanting him to get upset I reach out to his knee and pat it gingerly, “It’s okay Peter,” and it really is, “Just say what you mean.”

 

“Thank you,” his smile is fleeting and he’s taking a deep breath, “Stiles I know this isn’t ideal for you.  I know you don’t love me, that I’m forcing you into this, but I also need for you to realise that I am very serious about you, about us.  That I will tolerate no rivals for any affections you give to me.  That I will shelter and care for you, that I will be supportive of you, that I will be as gentle as my madness will allow,” he opens one of the boxes and plucks the ring I picked for myself from it.

 

“Stiles, you are a very strong, intelligent, relentless and unstoppable individual, and I am honoured and privileged that you are agreeing to this, no matter how coerced the situation you find yourself in,” he takes my left hand and slips the ring on while I reel in confusion at his acceptance of his own screwed up actions.  “I will work hard to make sure you don’t regret this and one day you will look back on this night and smile.”

 

Wow.

 

Kind of romantic and uber creepy all at the same time. 

 

He pushes the ring to the base of my finger and it doesn’t look bad, even in this light the various colours of the topaz wink and shimmer, I can kinda see why girls are so into jewellery it can be captivating.

 

The snap of the other ring box makes me look to catch him putting his own engagement ring on and I start talking before I finish thinking, “Whoa there buddy, what do you think you’re doing?  Take it off and give it here,” I hold my hand out and I’m surprised when he slips the ring back off and places it carefully in the middle of my palm and it hits me that I now have to propose to him and mean it.

 

“Um…” Holy mother of god, how the hell do I get myself into these things?

 

It has to be honest and not a lie, I have to mean it and I can’t just blurt it at him, curling my fingers over the ring I draw it closer to me and then reach for his left hand.  This is something I never thought I’d be doing.

 

“Peter,” It’s my turn to falter because he’s looking right into my eyes, “Um…” Oh god this could go badly.  “Peter, we’ve had a very antagonistic relationship,” which is true he’s tried to kill me and he tore my jeep up at the school when was recruiting Scott, “You could say it’s been destructive,” I threw a cocktail of chemicals intended to set him on fire and kill him, “Even cruel on many occasions,” he used Lydia to come back to life and then used the Pack to distract the Alpha Pack to regain his Alphahood, he had to kill three Alphas to do it, the coming back to life thing really drained him.

 

Crap I’m concentrating on the negative.

 

“But this is a new beginning, right?” I ask hesitantly and he nods which encourages me, “And technically you saved my life in the parking garage, because I doubt that a gang capable of killing a werewolf would have much trouble killing me.  So this is to our new beginning, together,” I slip the ring onto his finger and he’s smiling at me, his nice smile, his harmless smile.

 

Impulsively I lean forward, really slowly, I like my throat intact, and I brush my lips against his cheek.

 

“Oh,” a woman’s voice says and I pull back to see an older couple beaming at us, “That’s just so sweet,” the woman gazes up at her husband, “I remember the day my Harold proposed to me,” her hand reaches out to him and he lifts it to press a kiss there, huh, maybe Peter will still be romantic to me in a few decades and I’ll still be keeping him from killing people, it’s a reasonable goal to strive for.  “Do you have a camera?” She asks us, “To capture the moment.”

 

“Um, Peter has his phone on him,” I volunteer and other than a raised eyebrow he hands it over.  We sit closer to each other and I whisper, “Your eyes will glow, so you’ll have to look at me.”

 

“I can control them,” he murmurs back and we sit with our hands entwined and our heads tilted inwards to smile at the camera, and that is such a shock that I wonder how many pictures I can take of him before he gets grumpy and a genuine grin graces my face.

 

We do a few more poses and then the couple move on and Peter flips through the pictures of us, we look good, “Hey I really do look good in these clothes, and look at you being all dashing,” I tease him.

 

He preens at the praise and we walk around the garden one more time, then I yawn so much my jaw pops and he leads me inside, I’m fairly certain tonight will be a replay of last night and all we’re going to do is sleep.

 

Spotting Angela at the reception desk I drag Peter over and show off our rings playing the happy fiancé for all I’m worth, “Congratulations,” she holding my hand and twisting it so the light glints on the stone, and then Peter’s gets the same treatment, the red is strong under the artificial lights and I tell her all about how it goes blue in sunlight, “Oh, that’s a pity, I only work evenings and nights.”

 

“We’ll take a photo and you can see it in all it’s glory,” I promise her and she’s so happy for us that I hum all the way up in the elevator and to our room.

 

My new phone is fully charged and I add Peter’s number to it, I’ve never had many people in my contacts list and I doubt that’s going to change soon.  I know all the Pack’s emergency numbers and emails off by heart, I used to the main one who checked them, though I’m sure someone else has stepped up and is probably doing a better job of it than I did.

 

Sighing I turn off the lights in the rest of the suite and go and wait in the bedroom for Peter to finish in the bathroom.  He doesn’t take long and pads out in a pair of tight trunks, it gives me a chance to study him and he has the same muscled werewolf physique that the others all have.

 

“I’ve left my undershirt in the bathroom,” he says gently and I blink not realising how much I’ve been staring at him.  He slides into the bed, “We have the same wake up call in the morning, and then we can go sightseeing.”

 

“’Kay,” I go to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

 

This domesticity stuff isn’t anywhere near as hard as I always thought it would be, it’s strange to have people in your personal space all the time, especially as I was so used to all the excess space I used to have with dad, but living with Derek had gotten me used to it and that meant Brad and Oren hadn’t been such a shock, and now Peter isn’t either.

 

Settling into my side of the bed we say goodnight and the light clicks off, the glow of the electrics is more familiar and his breathing is soft, he goes to sleep quickly as I toss and turn.

 

My engagement ring is heavy on my finger and I sigh as I turn it around and around.  I try and remember that Peter did save me, if not from being murdered for being with Oren, then from the next werewolf that came through the city.  I’m not an Omega anymore; I’m Beta or not quite Alpha according to him.

 

And that leads to thoughts about kissing and what it had felt like, and how much it hadn’t been bad.

 

I squirm on the bed and curl up.

 

Derek never kissed me, he hovered and nearly did so many times but always pulled back.  Brad just assaulted me and forced me to do things for him and Oren hadn’t known what a cuddle was let alone a kiss.

 

Caressing my new ring I really do hope that Peter is that serious about a new beginning, I think I can cope if it’s true, and then I can keep my family, my pack, my friends safe from him.


	18. Chapter 18

Waking up I wiggle at the heat and hard flesh pressed against my back.  This time I’m more aware and I don’t panic.  Controlling my breathing and slowing my heart down I wait for Peter to say something, but the deep even movements of his chest don’t change and he’s out cold asleep.

 

His arm is wrapped around me and there’s no way I’m getting out of his embrace any time soon.

 

My phone is resting on the bedside table and I flail an arm towards it and walk my fingers the last inch stretching to snag it and drag it closer.  Triumphant I grin to myself and play a game but I’m soon bored and go surfing the net.

 

I know I shouldn’t do it, but I log onto my free email account, it’s unsurprisingly empty.  Once I’d fled Beacon Hills, to save everyone from me, I’d ignored my old email account as they all tried to coax me home, I even got an email from Derek at one point, and then Brad had happened.

 

It took him nearly a week to be finished with me the first time, and I was so ashamed of myself for what he’d done to me that as I huddled in the hospital bed afterwards I changed my email account and upgraded my Facebook to it and then I deleted my old email account.  I couldn’t face them.  Brad made sure I was seriously damaged and soiled goods, that no one normal would want me…

 

Behind me Peter stirs and rubs his nose along my shoulder blade and that’s a prime example of what I mean.  Now only other damaged and broken people will ever want me.

 

Sighing I go to my Facebook finally ready to delete it for good, to give up all obvious ties to my old past and embrace this new beginning.  I never had a lot of people that accepted my friend requests.  It was me and Scott for a while, then I badgered a few others into pressing confirm and I could live vicariously through them, I’d known all the gossip from the big parties I never went to because no one ever invited me.

 

Opening it up I’m a little surprised that I have a friend left on there.  When I’d ran there’d been ten.  My hands start to sweat, I’m scared to look to see who it is, it has to be Scott, he’s the only one I can think of who wouldn’t have just deleted me and removed me from his life.

 

Tapping the screen I bite my lip and then my jaw drops because it’s not Scott; it’s Danny.

 

Betrayed that Scott abandoned me, after I left him and refused to talk to him for months, I’m shocked that Danny’s kept me and I can’t help the smile that slips out, the guy is such a nice guy.  Totally not into me but then maybe I was damaged goods before the whole werewolf thing and he sensed it staying away because of it.

 

Opening up his page I jump into reading what he’s been up to recently.  Scrolling through his posts I can see the Hurricanes won again, not that I expected them to lose with four werewolves on the team, Coach did his normal after win speech and there are pictures of Danny at a family dinner thing, and at a school party I’d never have been invited to, and it’s great that he’s doing so well.  If anyone deserves to be happy then Danny does.

 

He’s commented on someone’s status, a girl from the badminton team.  She’s just added that she’s in a relationship and Danny’s put a nice comment about wishing her the best and threatening to set Jackson on the guy if he’s mean to her.

 

God, I never got to do that.  I never got to change that single status to an in a relationship status.  Never got to brag that someone had wanted me and I find myself pressing the screen before I can be sensible for once in my life and my status updates itself. 

 

**Stiles Stilinski is in a relationship**.

 

Grinning like an idiot I stare at it a bit more and Peter snuffles into my neck.  Biting my lip I try and talk myself down but then my arm is up in the air and I’m fiddling with the phone to get a good angle and one click later I’m smothering a snigger at the picture of me staring up at the phone looking like I’m happy and Peter’s face is right in the nape of my neck so you only get a side profile of him.  He looks adorable like that.  He looks like he’s as harmless as he tries to pretend he is.

 

I’m going to delete my account, I really am going to delete it, but there’s one more thing I have to do first.  I’ve crossed off changing my single status to in a relationship and now I load the picture and get creative with the caption, I dismiss over twenty of them before deciding on simple truth, ‘ **Woke up next to my new (adorable) Fiancé and I’m ready to tackle an awesome day of playing tourist** ’.

 

It’s a great feeling to be able put a snapshot of me and my significant other up and pretend that anyone cares.  That we’d get congratulations rained down on us and it really would be the beginning of a new life together.

 

Bringing up the menu I’m about to start the deletion process when the hotel phone rings and I startle with a manly squeak.  Answering the phone I thank them for the alarm call and Peter’s clearly awake now, “Hey,” I twist to see him yawning with the normal amount of teeth in his mouth.

 

“Morning,” he rubs at his eyes, “Do you want the shower first?”  He’s the epitome of a sleepy wolf and I nod escaping out of the bed and getting my robe as I go to the bathroom.

 

The relief at being able to piss is amazing and I hum in the shower, it doesn’t smell of Peter’s cum and I guess he was right it was a too much of a build up for him, he needed to release the pressure.  Drying and shaving I’m all wrapped up in my fluffy robe as I saunter out and go to the bedroom.

 

Peter’s sprawled in bed and is staring at his phone with a strange, almost soft, look on his face, he waves the phone at me as I dig into my pile of new clothes for something to wear, apparently he now trusts me to dress myself. 

 

“Stiles,” he’s waving his phone again, “You updated your status and posted a picture of us.”

 

Oh crap.

 

Our phones look the same and my eyes dart over to see his resting on his bedside table, “Um… Yeah?” I hold up a pair of socks like a shield, “I’m gonna delete my Facebook, honest, I’ve only got Danny left on there and…” My heart is hammering in my chest when he smiles at me.

 

“You think I’m adorable?” He asks and he’s acting like he was last night.

 

“Well, did you see the picture?  You do look adorable Peter,” and he’s not angry so I babble at him about how I’ve never been able to update my status and I’ve always envied people the cute couples pictures.

 

“It’s okay,” he cuts me off and gets up, he holds out my phone to me, “I told you I want to make you happy, and in Wolf Creek you’ll make more friends and I’m sure they’ll want to Facebook you and Tumblr and all those other social things like Twitter,” he sighs and looks at the phone again, “Post what you want.”

 

The phone is placed in my hand and then he’s humming as he leaves the room, with his robe, and I glance down to see a comment from Danny against the photo of Peter and me, ‘ **Congrats dude, ur both adorable, enjoy the sightseeing** ’.

 

And that’s Danny being nice again but it makes me grin that someone noticed me on the road to getting hitched against my will and wished me well.  Damn Danny has got to find himself a great guy and I hope that Jackson makes good on his old threat and kicks the douche ex in the nuts.

 

Shit.

 

Jackson.

 

Danny’s friends with Jackson. 

 

Hurrying I change my security settings and put it so that only friends can see my page, no use in rubbing the fact that I’m with Peter in their faces, they probably hate me enough as it is, better to just fade into the background until they all forget me and they can be happy.

 

Pulling on my clothes I wander into the lounge area and snap pictures of the suite and the views from the balcony.  Sweet.  The camera on this thing is so good that I can have holiday photos to keep.

 

Playing with the cell phone I end up with the picture of me and Peter as my background and then the wolf in question is walking towards me dressed in casual jeans and plain t-shirt, yet he makes it work so I give him a thumbs up and earn a wink in return.

 

Totally gonna be a good day today.


	19. Chapter 19

Staggering into the hotel I lean on Peter and whine about my feet while my face is still stuck in mega grin mood, it was an awesome day playing tourist.  I’ve never been on a boat before and there’s so much to see out on the lake and then in the city itself.  One day isn’t long enough but it means we have an excuse to come back and finish it off another time.

 

“I’m telling you Peter, we should do a road trip again, if this is what they’re like I’m all on board for it,” I nudge him with my elbow, “On board ‘coz we were on a boat...” I think it’s brilliant and he sighs but flashes me a smile.

 

“Yes dear, very punny,” he guides me over to the Receptionist and this late in the evening it turns out to be Angela.

 

“You look like you’ve had fun Stiles,” she greets us and I bombard her with the awesomeness of our day and I show her a picture I took of Peter’s ring so she can see it blue under the sunlight.  She gushes over it and then it’s time to limp over to the lifts and go to our room.

 

We ate out tonight and found a very nice vegetarian place, turns out that Peter isn’t opposed to veg, in fact he likes them.  And I got to eat things off of his plate while he tried things off of my plate, another couple-y thing I can knock off my list of things I’ve always wanted to do.

 

I also went a tiny bit crazy with the camera on my cell phone and I may have snapped anything that moved, didn’t move, or could have been considered a landmark if you squint at it.  The video on this thing is good too and I snuck a few videos of Peter when he wasn’t paying attention, my favourite one is when we were on the boat and he’s gazing out over the water a small contented smile playing on his face.

 

He caught on quickly and retaliated, there are plenty of photos of me on his phone and a few videos including one of me running around flapping my arms screaming ‘Wasp!’ and it was actually a late season fly chasing me.

 

Meandering to the bedroom I faceplant on the bed and groan determined not to move a muscle tonight.  “You know if you’re going to bed you’re supposed to take your shoes off,” Peter’s leaning in the doorway, I wave a hand at him and then go limp again.  Someone grabs my ankle and I jump automatically jerking it away, “I’m just taking your shoes off,” Peter says and I relax again.

 

He unties them and slips them and my socks off as I wiggle my toes and then he rubs the base of one of my feet and it should hurt, but damn it’s so good, “Magic fingers,” I grunt out and my muscles become pliant noodles.  He finishes with my first foot and does his magic thing with the other and I really don’t have the energy to move now.

 

I’m that relaxed that when his hands tug at my clothes I don’t even flinch, I let him take my layers off until I’m only in my underwear and I twist slightly to assist him as he wrestles his undershirt onto me.

 

Hands slide under my body and I’m being picked up to be carried carefully to the bathroom where he leaves me to pee and then brush my teeth, before he steers me back to bed and helps me slide under the covers.

 

“Awesome day was awesome,” I mutter and his fingers brush my short hair as I doze off.

 

*

 

Only to get rudely awakened by the hotel phone ringing loudly.  Peter is once again wrapped around my back and he untangles himself long enough to pick up the phone and thank them for disturbing me.

 

Freed from his embrace I stretch out beside him and curl up again with a sigh, I know it won’t be long before my brain forces me to get out of bed but it’s warm here and there’s no hurry to do anything.

 

A hand touches my side and I manage not to scream, I’m used to Brad or Oren touching me, at least Peter’s gentle.  The hand stays there and then eases around as Peter moves closer.  He doesn’t press firmly to my back, he leaves a little gap and we lay quietly like that.

 

Not talking.

 

For what seems like hours, but it’s probably closer to a minute, we do nothing and then I squirm over to face him. And laying there staring at him in silence is even more awkward, his hand still resting on my hip.

 

“Morning,” I whisper.

 

“Good morning Stiles, are you feeling more awake?  You were fairly tired last night,” his tone is relaxed but I can sense the flush spreading over my face.

 

“Yeah, much more awake, and thanks,” I try not to dwell on what happened and gloss over it with, “You were a total gentleman when you put me to bed,” please dear god let that be another sign that he’ll continue to be that way and won’t revert to a Brad mentality.

 

Those eyes of his dilate for a second and a momentary hint of red flashes through them as he twitches slightly, “Hmm, you’re welcome, I think we tired you out trying to see the whole city in one day.  We’ll have to pace ourselves in future, and maybe do weekend trips to New York or something.”

 

“Cool,” I nod and we go back to staring.

 

“Do you want to shower first?” He offers and I slip away from him, nabbing my robe on the way, I am so going to have to get a fluffy robe at sometime, these things are so soft and awesome.

 

As this is my last use of the bathroom I check out the giant bath tub and lay down in it because there’s something freaky about the dimensions, and not only could I fit in this, with space left over, Peter and most of Beacon Hills could too. Okay so that is an exaggeration, just Peter would fit in with me.

 

Climbing out I shower and hope the next place has a big bath tub so I can slosh about and soak.  I’m not normally a bath person but my old tub was way too small and we never had enough hot water to fill it.  I haven’t finished reading the gaming magazine Peter got me so that can keep me occupied as I turn into a prune.

 

Robe firmly on I find Peter sitting on the bed with his clothes for the day laid out ready, “I’ve got my bags packed,” he stands and points at the neatly placed suitcases, “You’ll want to pack your own.  Then we can have breakfast and leave, we have a long drive ahead of us.”

 

“Where are we going?” I’m getting confident that he won’t mind telling me as I’m being good and not trying to escape from him.

 

“Cheyenne, Wyoming,” floats back as he goes to shower.

 

“Cool,” I nod to myself and get dressed, then I pack my bags and there should be a system to packing but I use the tried and tested ‘first thing in hand gets packed first’ approach and there’s just enough room left over to zip up the suitcases and plonk them next to Peter’s.  Mine are set at an angle to his and I do my best to line them up, but he’s are perfect, and annoying, while mine are a bit haphazard and awesome.

 

Waiting for Peter in the lounge area I log on and find that Danny left me a message last night, he wants to know how the sightseeing went, I leave him one back promising to upload pictures and videos in an album.  Then I ask how he’s doing.

 

Logging off I skim through my photos and delete the blurry unfocused ones, when I discover I only have half the suite on camera.  Bumbling around trying to get perfect angles I give up and start videoing instead, I can cut pictures out if I want to.  I do a running commentary and walking into the bedroom Peter’s doing up the last button on his shirt and lifting an eyebrow at me, “Stiles are you really going to film the entire suite?”

 

“Duh,” I grin at him from behind the safety of my cell phone, “Smile Peter,” and he gives me a ‘bitch please’ look instead, “Oh come on,” I coax and get a quick smile as he moves towards me.

 

“I’ll order breakfast,” he says as he passes me, and, well, my aim on the camera may have slipped a little to his ass and then he says, “My eyes are up here,” and clicks his fingers up near his ear.  Stupid werewolves and knowing when I’m not being strictly a gentleman

 

“Damn it,” I sulk and turn the camera on myself long enough to roll my eyes and then it’s just the bathroom to go.  I even line up on the giant mirrors so I can wave to myself and give my trademark grin.

 

Turning off the video I hear the sound of the breakfast cart and hurry to the table to eat and play back my video.  It’s good and I’ve captured most of the essence of the rooms and the view from the balcony.

 

Peter prowls around the rooms making sure we haven’t left anything and then makes me brush my teeth interrupting me loading the images to the I-Pad, I’m going to use it to edit things and get them in the order I want them before putting them on Facebook, if I can find an internet connection that will last long enough.

 

We have a guy come and pick up our bags for us and then Peter’s taking me by the hand and we go to pay, the Hummer is brought to the front and we load the bags in before I hop in my seat and Peter drives us through Salt Lake City and out onto the Interstate where the boredom of watching the landscape forces me back to my project of pictures and videos.

 

Behind us the city vanishes from sight but I’m left with the physical reminders as my three rings are sitting on my fingers and I’m getting used to the weight of them.  I spin my thumb rings and touch my engagement ring.

 

Just over a week ago I would never have believed I could have a new beginning with Peter Hale of all people, but it’s happening and life is good for me for once.


	20. Chapter 20

In every epic road trip movie ever made there is fun and laughter and epicness, no one mentions that it can be boring, or that if you don’t time it right you end up squirming and needing to pee for half an hour before Peter can find a gas station you can use.

 

“You should have gone last time,” he’s not very sympathetic and he points to the large bottle of lemonade on my side of the car, “And really?  You drank most of that in one go.  What did you think was going to happen?”

 

“That I’d be able to burb along to the radio,” I confess and get another of his ‘bitch please’ looks sent my way.  “And I nearly did, until you turned the radio off.”

 

Pulling off the Interstate he parks up and I scurry to the toilets of hell and disgusting hygiene but I really need to go and I refuse to use a bush, someone might see me.

 

Climbing back into the Hummer I notice he’s moved the lemonade so I can’t keep drinking it, which is probably a good idea as I feel a bit sick too.  Getting back on the road I bury myself in my project, Peter’s given me his phone and I’ve dragged the photos and videos off of it.  He has some ideas and inputs in what I’m doing and I’ve decided he’s not allowed anywhere near the name of our road trip, and he shoots me another look.

 

“Really, you’re still going with ‘Stiles and Peter’s Awesome Road Trip of Awesomeness’?  What’s wrong with just using dates?  And why is your name first?  Peter is alphabetically first,” he’s not stopped on about that since I let the name of the road trip slip.

 

‘Because’ is not really an answer so I add, “I’m assuming that when we get married I’ll be taking the name of Hale, so since I’m giving up my last name, which in ancient tongues translates as ‘awesome’, you have to give up having your name first.  Therefore and ergo, it’s Stiles and Peter.”

 

“Therefore and ergo? Stiles you know they mean the same thing,” though he’s got that soft look back on his face and stops arguing with me.

 

We start talking about anything and everything again like we did on the way to Salt Lake City, I’m partly distracted by my task and I’m trying to create a Road Trip Folder we can keep, maybe even print out some of the nicer photos for an album, and I’m making a list of what I want to upload to Facebook.  The video of me being chased by a fly is not making the cut, it will die a mysterious death called deletion.

 

It passes the time and I’m still stunned at how easy he is to talk to, and how much he knows about things.  These are the conversations I’ve never been able to have before, mainly because dad didn’t have the time, and Scott wouldn’t be able to keep up, Allison’s always focused on Scott, Danny could only put up with me for so long, and Lydia was normally hiding that amazing brain of hers.

 

Stopping off at a dinner for lunch I get him to scoot in next to me on the booth seat and show him what I’ve been able to do so far.  He only makes a few adjustments and as there’s nearby wifi I upload the ones I want to Facebook.

 

Our waitress keeps giving us judgemental glances and sniffs, which we both ignore, and then there’s a shift change and our new waitress is much nicer.  Spotting our engagement rings she coos over us and I get an extra piece of pie for free, I would share it with Peter but he says he’s full.

 

Hitting the open road again I groan and whine because my stomach hurts and I’m bored.  I have the games from the start of our road trip to play with but I need two hands for that and I’ve thought of a new thing to check off my ‘couples things to do’ list.

 

Casually I stretch my arms in front of me and then nonchalantly I let my left hand move over and gently place it on Peter’s thigh.  The Hummer wobbles on the road for a few seconds and his muscles have stiffened under my fingers.  Righting the car we drive in silence for a minute or two and then all at once he relaxes and I smirk to myself.

 

“You realise I can do that back now, don’t you,” he states calmly and I can’t help looking over at him with a giant grin on my face.  He snorts and pats my hand but he doesn’t remove it and I go back to playing on the I-Pad.

 

Classic games are sometimes the best ones, and you can play them one handed, though I die quite a few times and bitch under my breath about them cheating when I’m not looking.

 

Another downside of keeping my hand on his thigh is that my arm aches after a few hours but we’re luckily pulling into Cheyenne and I sit up taking my hand back and stare at what I can see of the town.  Our hotel is on the edge of Cheyenne and we pull in and park, no valet service here.

 

The guy at the registration is nice enough and then we’re dragging our luggage through the hotel to our room.  It’s up a flight of stairs and Peter swops bags with me, so I get a lighter one that’s heavy enough to my human muscles, and we’re in another suite of rooms.

 

If we hadn’t been to the hotel in Salt Lake City I’d have said this one is incredibly posh and tastefully decorated, but it’s slightly dated and just the wrong side of tired.  It’s still amazing and beautiful and Peter is spoiling me.

We don’t unpack any clothes, just our toiletries mostly, and then I sit out on our balcony and gaze across the back gardens, which contains a swimming pool that’s going to be too cold to swim in right now.  And over the far end are paths cut into a woodland area, perhaps we can go exploring after dinner or something.

 

Sitting next to me Peter breathes in a few times and grunts as he sprawls back into the chair, his hand lands on my thigh and I squeak in shock glaring at the tiny smile playing on his lips.  Yeah he’s decided he can do that now too, damn it.

 

“I can smell the trees,” he murmurs and I sniff loudly but can’t tell with my human nose.

 

“Wanna go for a walk in them after dinner?” I ask him and he nods lazily, “Cool.  So, what time’s dinner?”

 

“Whenever we want to go down for it,” he glances at his watch, “It’s early yet unless you’re hungry now?”

 

“I can give it an hour or so,” I shrug, “How long are we staying in Cheyenne?  And we can spend the time googling what touristy stuff there is to do here?”  I end up booting up his macbook and we’re only staying here for a day of sightseeing. They have these train/bus things we can hop on and off of or do the full tour on, like we did in Salt Lake City.

 

Making some notes we decide to think about what we want to see and I go pee before dinner only to stop and salivate at the giant bathtub.  It’s at least as big as the one in our other room and I’m going to use this tomorrow night after we spend all day tromping around looking at stuff.

 

Dinner is a culinary love affair waiting to be devoured and I may make a few noises that I shouldn’t to the point that Peter is at first embarrassed but then laughs at me and steals some of my food, “Oh god…” He groans and I snigger at his face, the food really is that good.

 

“I vote we eat here tomorrow night,” I smirk at him and he nods momentarily speechless from the tastes running rampant in his mouth.

 

Going for our promised walk we head straight for the woods and I hadn’t realised how much I missed trees, the sound of the wind whispering in them, the crunch of the autumn leaves under my feet.  Peter’s openly sniffing and crouching to scent at things that catch his nose’s attention.

 

“Do you mind if I change?” He asks a growl showing through his words and his eyes are burning red.  “I want to be able to really run.”

 

Jagged memories of him as a misshapen wolf-man-thing float up in my mind and I nervously swallow, my poor heart is beating far too rapidly, “Can you control it when you change?” My voice hardly cracks.

 

“Yes,” he’s firm on that and waits for my answer.

 

Pretending I have a choice I nod and he starts to strip down, he hands me his clothes, and when he’s naked in the gloom his body shape darkens and changes.  Closing my eyes because I want to keep my very nice dinner in my stomach I do breathing exercises so I don’t hyperventilate and pass out.

 

A snuffling sound starts up and I peek into the dusky night to see bright red eyes like lasers in the middle of a hulking thing.  He’s actually sniffing like a dog and I must have some kind of sense of preservation because I don’t screw up and blurt out anything, trapping the words behind my teeth.

 

He moves along the path and looks back at me, then a bit further forward and back at me.  I’ve seen enough Lassie to know what he wants and I edge towards him slowly as we resume our walk in the woods.


	21. Chapter 21

Considering what my life has been I’m fairly freaked out that I’m walking in the woods of Cheyenne with Peter, and he’s a giant scary werewolf-thing that’s frolicking and bounding around like a little puppy.

 

I stumble into a clearing and he runs about sniffing and doing other canine things to the point that I’m waiting for him to cock a leg and pee up a tree.  He doesn’t, but the image in my mind makes me smile.

 

Having hung around werewolves I know not to look him directly in the eye but it’s dark and his fur is black so his glowing eyes are pretty much my only reference point.  He doesn’t take offence at my staring and then we’re carrying on with our walk.

 

He’s just this flash of black on black and then he’s sitting up a tree and leaping from tree trunk to tree truck and this delighted laugh bubbles up out of me.  Some times I envy them this, and trust Peter to have worked out how to get high enough up that he’s hard to track from the ground.

 

Dropping to the woodland floor he stands upright and normally Peter’s a little shorter than me, but in this form he towers over me and looms magnificently.  Shaking his body he drifts from the path and startles a deer across in front of me, he doesn’t chase it, he lets it go and I breathe out, “Dude, wow.”

 

Following the path around in a semi circle we reach the end of the mini wooded area and his sigh is so audible that I offer, “We can go back again, if you want…”

 

That big head waves from side to side and he falls to the ground getting smaller as I hastily avert my eyes.  The whispering tread of feet in leaves and he’s human again standing next to me so I hand him his clothes.

 

Once he’s dressed we hold hands and walk towards the hotel, I try and keep the moment and then I ask him, “Was it good?  Did you enjoy it?”

 

“Oh yes, it was good. The world’s so full of life and smells,” he’s growling softly.  “Thank you for agreeing to walk with me like that, it was glorious.  I want to do that again when we get home, to walk in the woods unfettered by anything. Free,” there’s something in his tone that sparks an understanding in me, to be free of everything and let the forest swallow up every fear and worry until it all falls away and you can be you.

 

How many times have I escaped into the woods around Beacon Hills? The mechanical rhythm of walking, the peace of the forest giving me some control over my thoughts and when I go home and slip into bed I can finally sleep and turn my brain off.

 

“Okay,” I agree and yelp as he hugs me to him, I have to clutch his shoulders for balance and this is nice too.  He’s very warm and the night is frigging cold and getting colder.

 

“You are the most…” He pauses, “Awesome person in the world,” and I laugh at him using my word to describe me.  “Thank you Stiles,” he’s being serious now and his face is right in front of mine, “Thank you.”

 

Oh so slowly he leans forward and I know he’s going to kiss me.  Just like he did in the park he’s gentle and undemanding.  And it’s nice, doing this with him is nice.

 

His lips are dry but then so are mine, his lower lip is fuller than his top lip, and I’m coaxed into kissing him back.  In all the stories and porn I’ve ever read things would normally heat right up at this point, instead his hands don’t roam, and the kisses stay the same as I begin to relax into them.

 

Wow.

 

No wonder people go nuts over kissing and this is better than the kisses in the park, I feel better in myself, I feel safer with him.  A blast of cold wind makes me shiver and he pulls back, “You’re cold,” it’s not a question, “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

 

And we’re back to holding hands as I bumble along beside him trying to process what an amazing kisser he is and attempting to decide whether wanting to continue kissing him in our room would constitute an invitation into doing more, which I’m so not ready for.

 

Uncertain and not wanting to piss him off when he’s in such a good mood I let the question slide and we get ready for bed, though neither of us is that tired, we watch a film on the TV, in bed, together, not sleeping.

 

Another couple-y thing I can mark off my list.  The bed is nice and comfy, Peter stays on his side of the bed and the film is funny.  Things are really going great, right up to the sex scene and then I squirm and side eye Peter wondering if he’ll get ideas.

 

“Stiles, relax,” he says and turns to look me in the eyes, “I promised I would behave and I intend to keep that promise to you,” he frowns, “Unless the scene is triggering you in some way?”

 

“Um… I’m okay,” I fidget and wait for him to call me out on the blatant lie I just told him.  I go back to watching the film and let it soothe me, though things are awkward now.

 

Damn it.

 

At the credits I side eye Peter again and then roll on my side to face him, hugging the blankets to my chest I test a theory I’m working on and this should put him in a very good mood.

 

“So, Peter,” I start and he glances at me, “What’s Wolf Creek like?  You said you wanted to go walking in the forest with me, does it have a forest?”

 

My working theory is that Peter is focused on getting me to come with him willingly and anything I do that’s accepting of our ‘relationship’ makes him happy.  Why, I don’t know, it’s not like the guy is playing with a full deck of cards, motive is a hazy point I can’t pin down, yet.

 

Mimicking me he rolls over and smiles that soft smile, my theory is looking more promising, and he answers my questions, “Wolf Creek is on the west side of Lake Algonquin, the creek it’s named after runs into the lake in the middle of the little town.  The whole area is covered in woods and forests.  It’s twinned with Wells on the other side.  The towns are both tiny and have a friendly rivalry going on.

 

“Our home is right on the edge of the lake, at the bottom of Wolf Creek, it means I can duck out for ‘runs’ in the forest whenever I want to.  We have decking around part of the house and we can sit out there in summer and look out over the lake.  There’s even a small jetty you could use to go swimming in the lake when it’s warm,” he describes it in typical Peter style and that’s the kind of way Derek would, more to the point that building a picture in your head for you.

 

“So I’m going to live on a lake?  Dude, totally never done that before, does the lake have waves?”  The bigger lakes can have them but he’s shaking his head.

 

“No, not normally, when it gets really still the water’s like a mirror and reflects everything, the towns are small enough that there isn’t a huge amount of light pollution so the stars are really clear at night and the whole lake can appear to be made up of stars,” finally he’s getting emotive over it.

 

“Awesome,” I think I could get used to seeing the stars reflected in the water.  I get him to tell me a bit more.  Wells has the little kid schools and Wolf Creek has the High School, whose top team plays basketball, and Peter loves basketball.  There’s a library, a sport’s centre based at the high school that anyone can use, and they have lots of water based festivals and races throughout the year.  The fishing is supposed to be fantastic and the towns get a lot of tourists there.

 

It’s quiet and boring, nothing ever happens there, like Beacon Hills before the werewolves came back, or in Peter’s case recovered.  I could do with some peace and quiet, I feel drained, broken, I need time to heal.

 

Stretching out in the bed I smile sleepily at him, “It sounds nice,” and he smiles back at me as I snuggle down with a yawn.

 

“Sleep Stiles,” he tells me and he clicks off the light.  The room sounds wrong, the lights are in the wrong places again but I can hear Peter breathing in the dark and I drift off to dream about lakes made up of stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lake Algonquin is real as is Wells, I’ve just inserted Wolf Creek and made Wells a bit bigger on the eastern side of the lake


	22. Chapter 22

It’s a pity we’re here so late in the year because even now Cheyenne is pretty kickass but in the height of summer there’d be more to do and the botanical gardens would be in full bloom.

 

Hopping on and off the tourist train/bus we get to see most of the main tourist attractions and drift around museums, and I love doing that, they’ve put up interactive things and I can play at the same time as seeing what life used to be like for the settlers.

 

I’m just as trigger happy with the camera and a few people have been kind enough to take photos of me and Peter together.

 

He’s in a stupidly good mood and I mentally tick off more points in my head about how to keep him happy.  A happy werewolf is a nice werewolf, and that eventually means a happy Stiles.  Finding out his motives for taking me will also help me manage him and allow me more freedom and an ability to live as well as I can in the circumstances, which at the moment, are pretty freaking great.

 

Sitting in a café we eat our sandwiches and talk about what we’ve seen and where we’re going afterwards.  Neither of us wants to be late back to the hotel the food there is amazing and we’re both going to order what I had last night, “Seriously it should be illegal,” I wave the last bit of my sandwich at him.

 

“Hmm, well I’m seriously considering coming back with you during the next summer break and eating as many of those dinners as I can,” Peter sips at his coffee.  “Or at least kidnapping the cooks and forcing them to give me the recipe.”

 

I’m fairly certain he’s kidding on the kidnapping but I steer the conversation away anyway, “I hate to break it to you Peter but my cooking is not up to those standards, you’d have to hire someone to cook it for you.”

 

His patented ‘bitch please’ look makes me grin, “I can cook,” he snarks, “I’m a trained chef.”

 

Choking slightly on the mouthful of orange juice I’ve just taken I stare at him in shock, “Really?  Most werewolves I know can burn water, I wouldn’t trust them with a toy cooker let alone a real one.  Does this mean I don’t have to cook all the time when we get to Wolf Creek?”  I’ve not been looking forward to resuming my cooking duties, I’m okay at cooking and I usually enjoy it but it’s a chore.  I was hoping I could talk Peter into getting take out now and again to give me a break, but a trained chef in the house means some gorgeous meals coming up.

 

Frowning he tilts his head, “I wasn’t planning on you doing much cooking, I was hoping you’d be happy to do the laundry and cleaning,” he shudders, “I hate doing those chores. We can share the grocery shopping.”

 

“Deal,” I stick my hand out towards him, “I hereby swap cooking for laundry and cleaning,” he stares at it for a few seconds and we shake on it.  “Awesome,” I crow figuring I’ve just gotten the better deal here and then, “Aw crap, how big is the house?  It’s a mansion isn’t it, I’ve just agreed to clean a mansion.” Damn it.

 

Laughing at me he says, “No, it’s a small place but cosy and I’ve recently had it renovated, you’re not going to have to clean a mansion.”

 

“Oh thank god,” I relax back into the chair and smirk at him, “I have totally gotten the best end of this deal.”

 

“No you haven’t,” he disagrees and I discover that he really does enjoy cooking, it’s like a zen thing for him, he doesn’t do many fancy recipes for everyday meals but sometimes it’s fun for him to break out the unpronounceable food stuffs and go to town in the kitchen.

 

“Can I get you a cute apron?” I tease him.

 

“Only if I can put you in a maid’s outfit when you clean,” he whips back and I pout that I can’t get him into an apron.

 

“How about a nice apron?” I counter.

 

“It depends on the apron,” he grudgingly concedes and holds a warning finger up to me, “I don’t want to spoil my clothes when I cook, but I’m not wearing one with ‘kiss the cook on it’, and I’ll refuse anything too girly or frilly.”

 

“I’m sure I can find you something,” I sip my drink and attempt being evil at him, it makes him laugh and we walk out to go see more of Cheyenne hand in hand and chuckling.

 

Having learnt my lesson in Salt Lake City I pace myself better this time and we arrive at the hotel just in time for dinner, where we proceed to eat the same main course I had yesterday and Peter leans back at the end and moans, “Oh god, that is truly nearly the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

 

“Truly nearly?” I query not sure that ambrosia better than this could exist in real life.

 

“Hmm, I found this Italian place in Juneau Alaska, it was tucked away around a corner and I swear I’ve never tasted food that good until now,” he smiles as he reminisces, “I sweet talked the owner in giving up a few of her secrets to me and she was happy to tell me as her children and grandchildren weren’t interested.  Two weeks later she’d retired and I count my blessing that I am the sole heir of that knowledge,” that tiny smile plays over his lips and I’m suspecting that one is his real smile, it’s not faked and it’s fairly rare.

 

“Then I hunger for the day I get to eat of that knowledge,” waggling my eyebrows at him I fight off the grin, “I promise to give the food from the gods my strictest attention.”

 

Snorting at me he laughs again and if I can keep doing this, keep him this happy with my wit and humour we’re going to get along just fine.  “Ready for a walk?” He asks as he stands up and holds his hand out to me.

 

“Yep,” I bounce up and hold his hand, our bill will get added to our room’s bill and we slip out into the night and go straight to the forest.  I tug on his hand and hurry him along, “Come on Peter, I thought you wanted to go all wolfy and frolic in a very non-dog like way again?” And suddenly we’re running through the gardens and over grass before bursting into the forest.

 

Peter checks to make sure no ones there and then he’s pulling his clothes off and I turn away for his privacy.  I recognise the snuffling noise and go to pick up his clothes for him, I may also pull his coat on because it’s nice and warm and then I take my wolf for a walk.

 

It’s earlier in the evening than yesterday and there’s more light to see him by, he’s a monstrous mix of human and wolf.  This is the nightmare creature that the legends speak of, the sane, and normal, Alphas become bigger versions of normal wolves, like Laura was when Scott and I accidentally dug up her grave.  Peter’s got the ability to grow claws longer and shaper than any other werewolf, and his blunt face has far too many teeth to be comfortable but he can open it impressively wide to tear into his prey.

 

Pushing aside the darker parts of what he is I amble along the path we followed yesterday and he zips about and around me, sometimes he’s close by, other times he ranges out.

 

And I don’t feel too scared of him.

 

I really don’t have anything to fear from him at the moment, he’s in a good mood, he’s well fed, he’s been shockingly nice and pleasant to me and I have got to work out what his angle on this is.  It can’t all be sex, he’s going to cook and I’m only doing the cleaning and laundry, what the hell else is he getting out of this?

 

Letting it sit in the back of my mind I leave it alone for now, I’ll continue to build the patterns on handling him as safely as I can, and it will emerge, eventually, and I can be patient if I really need to be.  If nothing else, Brad taught me patience with every blow he landed on me, pain is a very good teaching tool it’s incredibly motivating.

 

Snapping out of it I go back to the here and now, the problem of Peter’s true motivations can wait, the less I openly question it the more he’ll let slip to me without realising.

 

And then he lands in the middle of the path in front of me and lopes ahead of us, he is seriously like a dog right now, under my breath I mutter, “Damn Peter, why did you veto the dog jokes?  I have so many I could use right now,” I know he’ll hear me and a growl sounds out, “Okay, okay,” I hold my hands up, “The human is behaving.”

 

He appears beside me and we walk together, me on two legs, him on four, to the edge of the forest where he transforms and gets dressed, “Dog jokes?” His eyes burn.

 

“Dude,” I whine, “I just couldn’t help myself.”

 

“Oh Stiles,” he sighs and moves closer, “What am I going to do with you?” But he’s not angry. Not that him being angry was ever a good indicator to know how dangerous he was in any given situation.

 

“Well,” I drawl and my heartbeat picks up, “You could kiss me…” I blurt out and damn it brain, I know I like kissing him but did you have to do that to me?


	23. Chapter 23

Silence, and I’m sort of relieved and sort of upset that he’s not saying yes, it’s like he’s rejecting me and that’s just stupid because he’s threatened me and forced me to come with him and get engaged and he’s admitted it all to my face.

 

“Or…” he breathes in my ear and I wait for the punch line and him walking away, “You could kiss me…” and he’s walking away to a very handy tree where he leans back and waits.

 

“I…” My swallow is loud, “Me?  Really?”  This is new.  This hasn’t happened to me before.  Peter was my first kiss and he kissed me.  It’s easy when it’s him kissing me. Kissing his cheek when we got engaged doesn’t count.

 

Edging towards him I’m still waiting for him to say no and call it off.  I shouldn’t want to kiss him, he’s a psycho murdering werewolf.  But he says he wants me, and he’s put up with me for this long, plus kissing him is really nice.

 

He’s just standing there, and for some reason this is more nerve wracking than going to the formal with Lydia, I always knew I wasn’t even her second choice, I was the last ditch thing for her, I was nothing to her, some dumb idiot who mooned over her and saw her but never the right guy for her.

 

Peter’s acted romantically towards me.  He’s said nice things to me.  He’s had to jerk off in the shower for over an hour because of me.  He’s serious about us spending the rest of our lives together.  This thing between us is fucked up but it’s good and I don’t want to screw it up.

 

Coming to stand in front of him I eye him up and it’s getting darker so he’s hard to make out completely.  His eyes aren’t glowing and he appears to be calm.

 

For all my research, and incredibly detailed fantasies when I was having ‘Stiles Time’, I have no idea how to initiate a mouth-to-mouth kiss.  It’s always been written down as being instinctive and easy, perfectly natural and never awkward.  All that literature lied to me.

 

Resting my hands on his shoulders I gather my nerve, tilt my head and push forward.  I touch my lips to his and place a tiny kiss there.  His lips kiss back and when I pull away four seconds later I grin at him because, “I kissed you!”

 

My very first grown up kiss with someone that I started.  I swoop in to kiss him again and hold the kiss for longer.  When Peter was kissing me he slotted our mouths together perfectly, I’m a bit clumsy and it takes a bit of experimenting to find out how our lips should fit when we kiss and it slowly gets better, and better, and then I’m getting strange aches on my lips and other places with a fission of hunger twisted in.

 

Oh.

 

My brain works it out.  I’m physically attracted to Peter.  Which isn’t that weird in itself, I’m Bi, so guys were already on my radar, and Peter is very attractive with a sassy funny attitude.  The only bad things about him are his murderous insane tendencies and the fact that he’s forcing me into this relationship and told me that when we get to Wolf Creek we’re having sex.

 

Brad ruined me and I learnt to accept and even ignore what he did to me in order to live, then Oren came and he was gentler but I still didn’t want what he did to me.  And now I’m going to have to endure it again with Peter.

 

Peter who’s trying to be good to me, to give me as normal a life as he can, who’s made me laugh, who’s not hurt me yet, okay the hospital thing doesn’t count he was trying to save me and managed it in a typically violent way.  But I’m starting to like this version of Peter, and I could live my life with him, I could build a new life for me and him away from Beacon Hills, I could save everyone I love and still be happy and make him happy too.

 

But he’s still going to insist on sex from me and I just know that liking him and having him do that to me is going to rip me up inside.  At least I hated Brad and was searching for a way to kill him.  With Oren I had my escape plan ready, it was a bit long term but it was there.  I have nothing but years and years with Peter...

 

“Stiles?” He queries as I stumble back from him my stomach kicking me and churning with nausea.  “What happened?  Why do you smell so upset?”

 

“I...” I try to wave it off but he’s right there and his arms go smoothly around me, trapping me against him and this is it, this is my life now.  “Sorry, sorry Peter, I’m trying, I swear I’m trying, it’s just that I like you and it’s harder than I thought.”

 

He coaxes me into burying my face into his neck and I cling to him and shake.  His neck gets wet so I must be crying and it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair that this is my life.  What the hell did I do so wrong in a previous life that this is now my life?  What did I do to deserve this?  Other than live when my mom died.

 

Sobs wrack my body and I’m making these strange keening noises like I’m in so much pain there aren’t words to convey it.  My knees buckle but he holds me upright as I fall apart on him, the last time something like this happened my mom had just died, I taught myself to bottle it all up after that.

 

Scooping me up in his arms he walks towards the hotel and I struggle to pull myself together, and then he’s changing direction to a play park and he sits down on a bench.  A hand rubs my back for me and I’ve no idea how long I’m like that for, but I’m soon emotionally and physically drained and lay there letting him hold me like the weak idiot I’ve turned out to be.

 

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” he murmurs softly, “We can work on this together...”

 

My bitter laugh cuts him off, “That’s part of the problem,” I shift in his lap to get more comfortable and I can’t look at him, I feel like a coward, so weak, so dumb, so stupid, such a waste of time and space.  “I like you Peter, or I could like you, a lot.  You’re smart, funny, sassy, easy to talk to, and I’m shocked at how much I’m enjoying being around you.”

 

He stays quiet and I know he’s thinking about this and turning it around in that brain of his, so I tell him, “And when we get to Wolf Creek you’re going to insist on sex, and I don’t want sex, I don’t want to have to endure sex anymore,” oh god I’m starting to cry again.

 

What the hell is wrong with me?

 

After that first time with Brad I locked it all down to cope with it, why is it bothering me so much?

 

“I’m sorry Stiles,” and his hand moves up my back to stroke through my short hair, there’s regret in his voice, “My sexual needs aren’t that strong, you know I’ve not been interested in that for so long so that when it hit me in the hotel room...” He trails off and I think he’s blushing.  “I’m sorry,” he repeats and adds, “But you’re right, I’m going to insist on sex at least once a week, that you’ve been repeatedly and sustainably raped,” he’s so matter of fact about it, “Isn’t ideal because you’ve not healed from it, so my insisting will turn it into rape, and I have no wish to harm you physically or otherwise, you’re far too important to me.

 

“I’ve read up extensively on gay sex, I know how to prepare you and stretch you, I will be as gentle with you as I can,” he’s cradling me and acting like I am important and telling me how he’s going to have sex with me, even though he knows I don’t want it, he’s even calling it rape and more tears escape me at how screwed up this is.

 

I latch onto, “Once a week?” Can I survive that?

 

“Yes, once a week,” he confirms and I’m nodding like it makes all the difference.  “If I need more I’ll see to it myself,” and it’s a major olive branch he’s offering.

 

“Okay,” my voice is wobbling and cracking, “We can try that...”

 

“Good.  Thank you Stiles,” he nuzzles me, “I also promise to continue with the relationship side of things, we’ll continue to get to know each other, to hold hands, to kiss, I have so much to show you.  And I know in time that I’ll be able to help you with your sexual needs as you heal from everything that’s happened to you.”

 

I want to scream at him, to punch him, to kick him in the balls, to run away from him forever, because if he could only do that without the sex I’d be ecstatic, but he’s not and he’s acting as if forcing himself on me is normal.  I remember dad’s lectures, it doesn’t matter if the victim doesn’t put up a physical fight or if they’re already in a relationship with their attacker, if the victim really isn’t into it, if they don’t want it, it’s rape.

 

Defeated for now I nod and he picks me up to carry me inside, I’m so very tired and when we get ready for bed I can’t muster the enthusiasm to go for a bath.  I’m not finished with this yet, but I’ve gotten concessions out of him and I don’t want to make things worse.

 

Exhausted I curl up in the bed and I’m falling asleep before my head hits the pillow.


	24. Chapter 24

Peter’s back to being on his best behaviour and I’m still bone tired from everything in my life, the crying yesterday was so out of character for me I don’t know where it came from, and I’m drained from it with a pounding headache left as a reminder.

 

Grumpy and in a funk I stumble into the car with Peter and listen to the I-Pod so I can close my eyes and the jiggling of my knees is the only movement left over from my ADHD.  My brain is trying to pick last night apart and I really don’t want to think about it and concentrate on the music, on each instrument’s melody, and pull that apart instead.

 

As the Adderall and pain medication kick in I uncurl from the seat and sit up ready to face the world as long as it doesn’t want too much from me.

 

“Here,” Peter hands me the I-Pad, “It will help take your mind off of it.”  It really won’t, it will only delay my mind as the things I don’t want to think about build up behind a mental dam in my head until it bursts and I either go insane or scream and run for the hills.

 

Indulging him I play a few games and then we’re pulling off the interstate for food.  Peter’s searching for something in particular and my curiosity is pricked over it.

 

Parking up at a fast food joint he insists on holding my hand and we get food.  Well he gets a salad he pokes at, and I get a mountain of curly fries ordered for me, “I know they’re not good for you in the long run, and you should have as natural a diet as possible, but they heal you,” he’s got his serious face on so I nod and eat the curly fries letting them work their magic on me.

 

The familiar taste of the fries soothes me and I’m more or less back to being me when I’m clearing the table down and Peter goes to the bathroom.  I reach for his hand as we leave and he runs his thumb over my knuckle.

 

I can do this.  I know I can do this, I don’t want to and that’s just tough.

 

We walk past the car and I look at him in confusion before scanning our surroundings in case we’ve stumbled over another werewolf or even Hunters, but there are very few people out here and then we’re sitting out of sight on a bench in front of a water feature that’s sluggishly gurgling and running down a mini algae choked waterfall.

 

Other than retreating inside my own head, which he could have taken as ignoring him, I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset him, unless it’s my abject refusal of sex with him, though I relented in the end so he should be happy that our ‘relationship’ is intact.

 

“Stiles,” his voice is calm and I jump anyway steeling myself for some kind of lecture, hopefully he won’t use his fists on me and that could be the reason he didn’t take us straight to the car and we’re sitting here instead.  “I’ve been thinking about last night,” and here it comes, I tense and get ready, “I know I’m being unfair to you, that I’m getting far more out of our bargain than you are.”

 

HUH?

 

All he’s getting from me is sex once a week and a glorified maid to clean and do his clothes, he’s the one providing for me, putting a roof over my head, feeding me, cooking for me, and protecting me from other werewolves.  “I don’t understand,” slips out and he quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Hmm, perhaps you don’t.  I need you to think back, and discounting the first full moon of any new werewolf, have any werewolves actually physically harmed you with their teeth and claws?  Have they lost control of their wolves around you and you’ve NOT been able to help them regain control?” He asks and I can think of plenty of times.

 

Yet he said not counting the first full moon, “Um, Scott attacked me once in the locker room at Lacrosse practice, I had to use a fire extinguisher to snap him out it, and Jackson when he was the Kanima,” so there are a few instances, “Other than that they tend to hit me with inanimate objects, like Erika and my starter motor,” which she’s never paid me back for.

 

“So you snapped a brand new werewolf, who was probably on an adrenaline high, out of an attack.  Jackson as the Kanima doesn’t count as he wasn’t in control, and a starter motor isn’t claws,” Peter puts an arm around my shoulders and drags me in closer to him.

 

“Okay?” I’m back to being confused again.

 

“Stiles,” he turns his head to look me in the eyes, “I’m a born werewolf, I can sense what you are, what you can give all werewolf kind,” he pauses and I want to dig my elbow in his side so he’ll hurry up, “You are a true human Alpha or at least the human equivalent, you act like a natural universal anchor to all werewolves, born or bitten.  Be they Alpha, Beta or Omega, you have a form of influence over us all.”

 

I blink.

 

“Um, I’m fairly sure I don’t,” I argue back, “I think I would have noticed if I was an anchor to anyone.  I’ve seen Allison and Scott,” he snorts at their names, “I do not have those kinda Zen giving abilities. And no one ever listens to me, there is no influence over anyone,” ever, no matter how sensible my ideas are.

 

“Really?  Then why didn’t I kill you on the lacrosse field?  Why did I offer you the Bite and let you go when you refused it?  When Derek was dying of the wolfsbane bullet and lost control of his wolf in the parking lot searching for Scott, why did you live?  How does one gangly adolescent boy run with wolves and live?” He leans in and I lean back.

 

“Luck?” Except he’s started to get my brain thinking about it and it’s an awful lot of coincidences when you add them up and I frown because I don’t believe in consistent coincidences, only patterns.

 

“Ah, now you’re thinking, finally,” he sasses. “Tell me Stiles, how did a murdering rapist manage to settle down?  Brad’s body count as a human was impressive, it skyrocketed as a werewolf, but you gave him more control than he’d ever had in his life,” I shudder when Peter says that name and my skin crawls as I digest his words.

 

“Murdering rapist?” I whisper not really wanting to know but having to know.

 

“Yes, I hacked into a few databases I shouldn’t have while I was tracking you down, and the police think he started as young as thirteen, he was a truly evil and mad individual, he makes me look sane,” Peter’s hand tightens on my shoulder, “Would that I had found you earlier, I would have delighted in ripping him apart and roping his intestines around his neck to strangle him.”

 

I remember Oren killing him and I’ve never been so glad to see someone dead, not even Peter.

 

“And that brings us to Oren,” the man beside me huffs, “A child from a broken home, the usual pitiful story,” Peter doesn’t sound impressed, “Implicated in murder, drugs, intimidation, tied to a very nasty gang, and then one full moon he saw something he shouldn’t and got bitten.” Rolling his eyes at me Peter says, “He was an out of control idiot, the Alpha that bit him couldn’t handle him and he got kicked out, he left chaos in his wake wherever he went, and then he finds you, to become a boring little office worker, with a promotion.”

 

It makes me sound impressive, it really does but, “Why did they both beat me then?  If your, somewhat fanciful, theory is correct, they should’ve had greater control around me and not smacked me around.”

 

“Did you not hear the ‘out of control’ part of their histories,” he counters, “The only thing in this world that could give them guaranteed control would be their own personal anchors, which neither of them were capable of due to the fact they weren’t emotionally strong or mature enough to have one.”

 

We lapse into silence and I mull it all over, “So,” I tentatively push my new hypothesis out there, “You want me to be your anchor for you.  To give you control.”

 

“Yes,” he pats my shoulder, “Being around you, smelling you, listening to that heartbeat of yours, it all gives me control.  Have I lost that control around you yet?”  I shake my head, even in our violent past he’s not lost control and ripped me apart, he’s threatened me, scared me, chased me, hit me, but never bitten or clawed me.

 

“Huh,” and that explains his motive in wanting me and going out of his way to be so pleasant to me, he can have his anchor and let his guard down knowing I won’t run away from him.

 

“Don’t assume that you can walk up to any werewolf and have them roll over for you,” he says shattering the thought that was growing in my mind, damn, why can’t I have a cool superpower like werewolf whispering?  “It will take time and exposure to gain that influence, but once you have it, no distance or length of time will lessen it.”

 

I’m not completely convinced but I do believe that he believes that I’m an anchor of sorts, Oren had admitted that in the past, and Scott’s said I’m calming to be around.  Maybe it only works on some of the werewolves; I never noticed a difference around Derek, though sometimes I could push his three Betas around.

 

It certainly adds a new twist to my relationship with Peter and I can see why he’d think he’s getting the better end of our deal.  We sit there for a while and I’m feeling better about things now.  If my influence increases the longer I’m around a werewolf then it will grow on Peter too, hopefully to the point that we can renegotiate the sex thing and I’m confident now that he really will be as gentle as he can be with me.

 

“Better?” He asks sniffing me and he must be able to smell that I’m calmer, I wouldn’t put it past him to have made all that up to manipulate me but I’m clearly helping him to not kill people.

 

“Yeah,” I nod.

 

We share a smile and then his cell phone rings.


	25. Chapter 25

“Hale,” He answers his call and then goes quiet as he listens, his face sours and his eyes start to glow red as his teeth begin to protrude from his mouth and I can see his claws growing.  Whoever he’s talking to is pissing him off big time.

 

“No,” He snarls and listens again.  “I don’t think you realise who or what you are dealing with, I’m an Alpha of my own territory,” it’s his calm yet deadly tone and I really don’t want to be the other person on the end of that phone, “You do not dictate terms to me.”

 

Wow, someone’s dumb enough to try a power play with Peter?

 

“Put your Alpha on the phone, I refuse to deal with such a simple minded lackey,” he growls and I belatedly remember my role in this relationship.  Twisting on the bench I reach out to rub his shoulder and indicate he should twist too so I can get to both of his shoulders, he quirks an eyebrow but does it and I attempt to dig my thumbs in to undo the knots building up in his muscles.

 

A quiver runs through him and he relaxes, his claws retract, and I’m assuming his teeth are too.  “Ah Marianne,” he’s back to being urban and snarky, “Is there a reason your little halfwit minion has called me to tell me that the deal we’ve been brokering is off?  I’d hate to think I’ve been wasting my time considering I’m getting nothing apart from a friendly neighbouring pack out of this.”

 

Rolling his neck he gives me access to those muscles and he practically purrs as a frantic voice is talking in his ear.  My human hearing isn’t good enough but Peter’s tensing again.  “Can you put them off for,” he glances at his watch and then hisses, “I need to borrow your phone,” at me.  I fumble it over and he pulls up google maps.

 

Tapping in where we were last night and a new destination he frowns at the miles and the hours, “Hmm, we’re not going to be able to fly straight into you Marianne, I already know the flight transfers to get to your tiny airport.  We can make it there in… Hmm…A little over twenty six hours if we break a few traffic laws on the way.”

 

The woman is speaking again and Peter nods, “Good, do that, we’ll see you soon,” he hangs up on her and swears under his breath.  “Stiles,” a hand comes up to cover one of mine, “I am truly sorry to do this to you.  I was looking forward to our road trip together, but we need to go home, or more accurately stop off just before home.”

 

“Something big has come up,” I make an educated guess.

 

“Yes.  I’ve carved out a tiny little territory no one else wants, yet I can see the incredible potential there, unfortunately those around me think I’m going to try and encroach on their territories, so I’ve brokered deals buying hotels in each of their lands, then I’ve renovated them and sold the business to them for next to nothing.  It’s a nice gift that will give them a simple income and I’ve created areas so that their packs can gather in peace and appear to be a ‘club’ that won’t arouse the Hunters’ suspicions,” he explains, “I’m about to give the last one away to Marianne, who quite frankly makes Scott look like a genius,” I wince at the description and it doesn’t bode well.

 

“But,” I prompt.

 

“But, she’s been dragging her heels over it for a month, she wants to broker a more permanent alliance with me,” he sneers, “I have no desire to be dragged into any troubles her pack has.  Last year they had a few rogue Omegas drift through and all of them tried to attack her to take the Alpha position, she’s a ruthless fighter but few people take her seriously, including me.”

 

“So, she’s trying to link her name to yours because the Hale name still carries a lot of weight,” I muse and he nods at that, “She’ll be challenged less because they’ll hesitate to cross you and you get the headache of rushing over and fixing things in her territory when it goes wrong.”

 

“Exactly,” he grimaces, “Not to mention that the other two Alphas surrounding our territory are now highly suspicious and it’s undoing all my hard work and I’ll still have lost the time and money that went into their deals.”

 

Going back to kneading his shoulders for him I think it over and I’m baffled at how he can get out of it, werewolves can be strange about territories, add in an Alpha’s tendency to be stubbornly pigheaded and it’s usually a recipe for disaster.

 

Huffing he grunts out, “And I wouldn’t mind so much, now I have you, but I tend to stop off at the hotel I’m giving her when I travel for work, it’s two hours away from home but it’s an excellent base for that area, the amount of antiques I’ve found there,” he rotates his shoulders under my hands.

 

“Huh,” now that titbit could be useful, “So your problem is that you need to give the hotel away just like you did the others, but you don’t want to offend Marianne because you ‘hunt’ for antiques there a lot and staying on her good side is easier for business.”

 

“Exactly, either that or I’ll be forced to kill her and take over her territory, which negates the other deals with the other two Alphas,” he stands up and stretches, “Hmm, Stiles, I may ask you to do that for me again, that feels wonderful.”

 

An idea pops into my head and I ask, “Why can’t you give her the hotel as you originally agreed, and then she can give you a token share of it back? You know, because you’re there so much?”

 

He blinks at me and runs that through his head, “That’s… Possible,” he allows.  “It will show all the Alphas that I’ve kept my treatment of them the same, and it will also show that I have an agreement with Marianne to enter her territory as often as I choose.”

 

He holds a hand out to me, “Thank you Stiles.”

 

Taking it I let him pull me to my feet, “You’re welcome.”  Walking back to the car I smirk at him, “Any time you need awesome solutions in your life I’m here for you,” and I may gloat at him a little.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” and he’s serious so I stumble slightly, no one takes me seriously, they tend to ignore my ideas, okay so most of them when I was a kid were dumb, but they’re getting better.

 

Catching sight of the car I grimace, I really don’t want to be stuck in there for hours on end, the I-Pad is only so good for staving off boredom for so long, and I won’t be able to get out and move about.  “Can I drive?” I ask, “Come on Peter if we’re going non-stop to meet Marianne you can’t do all the driving, and I promise not to off road the Hummer, unless there’s an emergency,” I add quickly.

 

Rummaging in his pocket he dangles the keys and I wait for him to snatch them back at the last second, but then they’re in my hand and I laugh in delight, I’ve not driven for months, the novelty of it should keep me occupied for a few hours.

 

Settling into the driver’s seat I make all the adjustments to the mirrors and the seat I need to and it’s not a manual transmission so it’ll be a bit boring to drive and frankly it feels like a giant frigging tank.

 

“Stay on the I-80,” Peter instructs, “We’ll swop over either just after Lincoln or near Chicago depending on how tired or bored you are,” and then he’s closing his eyes as I ease the Hummer forward.

 

Twenty miles later and his breathing has evened out, damn I wish I could sleep like that, that’s so unfair, it takes ages to get my brain to stop bouncing off the walls and calm down enough I can go to sleep.

 

That reminds me, I’ve been sleeping really well since Peter and I got together, analysing what we’ve been doing I come to the realisation that I may have been learning about him and how to manage him safely but he’s been doing the same thing to me.

 

Each evening he’s made sure we’ve gone for a walk before bed, except after the epic sightseeing in Salt Lake City, an activity that used to soothe me so I could sleep back in Beacon Hills.  He’s obviously looked into ADHD and how routines can be used to help those with it to gain control over their insomnia tendencies.

 

He’s also given me electronic gadgets to keep me occupied and he’s done his best to keep me stimulated and not allowed me to slip into overly excited too often, he’s encouraged my road trip album, which is a creative outlet and not yelled at me when I’ve zoned out on him, he’s waited for me to snap out of it.

 

Gripping the steering wheel in my hands I side eye him and I have to concede he’s done his homework well. I wonder just how much he’s learnt about me from all the encounters we’ve had since he bit Scott.  He’s proved he can manipulate me into doing what he wants, after he attacked Lydia he got me to find Derek for him and he pointed out that I would probably have joined his pack because I would have followed Scott to keep him safe. And now I’m going to his home to live with him.

 

The awesome thing about being an anchor for Peter is that I will give him control and no one’s going to die.  My family, my friends, my pack, they’re all safe from him.  The huge giant downside is that Peter’s brilliant, our talks have proved the depth of his general knowledge, his past actions have shown his tactical skills, and now he’s not so crazy, he’s also very patient and ambitious.

 

I’m going to have my hands full keeping him distracted from world domination or whatever it is that drives him, he seems to have given up on the annihilation of the Hunters for the moment.

 

I need to find out as much about Wolf Creek as I can, and then I need to come up with schemes to stimulate him and make his brain have a work out so that he can settle into a fucked up version of domestic bliss with me.

 

Again I wonder how the hell this became my life.


	26. Chapter 26

The rumble of the Hummer has become so constant now that when we swopped over in Chicago I slipped into sleep as Peter took over driving.  I’d driven for longer than I’d wanted and the road had been boring with little to keep my attention, but I’d needed to be tired enough that I could sleep.

 

We’ve made excellent time and other than pit stops for gas and peeing, as well as picking up pre-packaged food, we haven’t stopped.  He’s said we’re only a few hours away now from the town we’re going to.  Who the hell named it Rome?  If you’re going to call a place Rome surely you want somewhere big and full of awesome architecture that can astound generations to come.

 

Vibrating in place I try every trick I can think of to stay amused and they’re all failing me.  Even Tetris is boring and I die on the second level for the ninth time in a row.  Peter’s tired from all the driving he’s done and has ground his teeth together when I’ve been overly obnoxious.

 

“You should have wifi now,” he says, “Can you look at the website for the hotel?  It’s called The Willows Inn, I’d like your input on it.  You might want to compare it to the website for the hotel in Salt Lake City, and you’ll see why I don’t like it.”

 

Logging on I’m glad for something to do and I hope the connection stays, it’s slow going but the Willows Inn site loads and it seems okay, I’ve not really looked into hotels before.  Then I load the one from Salt Lake City, “Oh my god, this site is awesome!” It’s got everything I could possibly want and more.  The photos are good and it has simple layouts of the rooms you can get, their rates, and oh wow, our suite cost how much?  There are menus for the various restaurants, with prices, and opening times.  Times for the swimming pool, the spa centre, “Wait it had a spa?”  There are Conference and Meeting rooms with pictures and a long list of upcoming events hosted in the gardens.  Links bounce me to the local airport, train station, bus routes, cab firms, and the tourist centre.

 

Going back to the Willows Inn I wince, “Dude, the website for the Willows sucks.”

 

“I know, you should see the one for the holiday letting business I’ve got,” and he rattles out a web address to me.

 

The page loads and then, “Peter,” I hesitate and I can’t think of anything nice to say, and even saying it sucks isn’t harsh enough.

 

“It’s beyond bad,” he says, “A comatose four year old could design something better than those two sites, I didn’t have time and I actually paid someone to come up with those… those…” words escape him and I nod.

 

“Pieces of crap,” I helpfully provide.

 

“I didn’t mind the Willows as much,” he grimaces as he waves it off, “I was getting rid of the business, it was going to be Marianne’s problem, but the letting site?  That thing has to go,” he growls.

 

“I need to change the whole website,” he says, “Rebuild it from scratch. It has to start off with a nice piece about the area with some scenic views, then I want each letting to have it’s own page with a basic floor plan and multiple photos of the rooms, the exterior and views.  Possibly a write up on local amenities and tourist attractions,” and I can see that working.

 

“You said the two towns have festivals?  Could you add an events listing, like the good hotel site has?  Maybe link in a map showing local shops and give them a mini guide on what there is to do or see?” I muse out loud thinking back to what else was in the good website.

 

“Yes, I like that,” he nods and I beam at him glad to be of use.

 

“You could add rates to the letting pages, so that people can see how much it’s going to cost them before they ring up.  Maybe do a promotion if they stay for longer?” I shrug, “I don’t know how long people would normally stay, we never really went away on holiday, we just camped up the road for a few days,” I used to love it and then mom got sick and we didn’t camp anymore.

 

“Thank you Stiles,” he reaches over to pat my knee, “You at least understand why I hate the website so much, the idiot that designed it just stared at me like I was the idiot. And the worst part is, he does most of the web designs for the towns, he came,” Peter pauses and then adds, “Recommended.”

 

Glancing back down at the holiday letting site I shudder, “Oh my god, other people have websites like this one?”

 

“Some of them are worse,” he says and rattles off another web address, which I foolishly put in.

 

“My eyes,” I rub at them and desperately stab my finger at the screen to make it go away.  “How the hell does he get recommendations creating things like that?  Does that colour even exist in our reality?  I’m sure it just bent space and time.”

 

Peter starts laughing, “I would love to see the owner of that website hear you say that, she thinks it’s ‘tasteful and refined’,” my jaw drops and people never cease to amaze me in all the wrong ways, the internet can be scary in places when you’re researching things that go bump in the night.  The things we humans get up to and then post where anyone with the right searches can find is beyond messed up.

 

Our talk has given me something to focus on, which was probably his intent, and, other than a few shudders now and again as I flash back to that horrific colour, I build up a spreadsheet outlaying the general points Peter had and I’d added to for his website.  Twisting it into a nice flowchart detailing how the site would link together I’m impressed with it, it covers most things and then Peter’s turning into a gravelled drive.

 

Sitting up I look about and yes there are willow trees all along a small stream that we cross over with a bridge.   The Inn itself is smaller than I expected and there’s another group of buildings off to our right, we veer towards those and I frown wondering where we’re going, sunlight glints off of a vast number of windows.

 

Peter parks in front of a long low building and there’s a sign marked ‘Reception’.  Practically falling out of the car in my haste to escape from it’s confines I nearly faceplant in the gravel.  Springing up and brushing my hands off I jog over to Peter.

 

“Are you alright?” He asks concerned.

 

“Dude, now I’m out of the car, I’m awesome,” I automatically grab his left hand and we go to the reception.

 

The glimpse I’d had of the Inn as we past it was that it was an older style two story grey brick building, this is in the same style but is single story and the doors are arched and there are huge windows everywhere, meaning I can see out the back and there’s a big lawn there leading out to a small wooded area.

 

“Mr Hale,” the receptionist is a stunning young woman who greets him with a smile, “We’ve kept your usual room for you, and we’ve kept a table for you in the restaurant,” her eyes flick to me, “Do you require another room for your companion?”

 

“No,” he lifts our entwined hands up and kisses my fingers, “Stiles will be staying with me.  I’m hardly going to let my new fiancé out of my sight now I’ve caught him and convinced him to join me.  We’ll put our bags in our room and then I want to show the place off to Stiles,” he tells her and misses her partial grimace and the way her eyes glow amber for a second, giving away that she’s a werewolf.

 

He goes out to grab our bags and effortless drags them inside while I have the monumental task of holding our door key and then ambling along behind him as he leads the way.  We step through a door to the right that’s unimaginatively signposted ‘Rooms’, and enter a long corridor.  The right hand side of it is made up of long windows interspaced with bits of wall, probably to hold the windows up.  Along the left are the rooms themselves, each door clearly marked and I’m a little surprised with how few of them there are.  Our room is on the end and I only count twelve of them in total.

 

Unlocking our door I push it open and let Peter in first so he can dump our luggage.  The room is fairly big, very minimal in decoration, the walls are pale but warm, I step into a small living area that leads to the bedroom and from the bedroom there are more huge glass doors leading out onto the lawn and a small patio area.

 

Peter’s put our bags down and is stowing them away in a handy walk in wardrobe area with vanity unit for women and I duck my head around the only other door to find the bathroom.  I’m used to climbing into a shower, this bath and shower unit is sunk into the floor and I whimper, “Giant bath tub,” it’s even bigger than the one at the last place, and it’s square.

 

If things go well I’m going to have my damn bath in a huge tub, “There’s a speaker system if you want to bathe and listen to music,” Peter’s leaning against the door and he holds his hand out, “Let me show you what I’ve built here,” he offers and I take his hand in mine giving the bath one more long lingering look.


	27. Chapter 27

We start in the corridor outside our room, Peter points out how the big windows slide open during summer so that the sun’s heat doesn’t get trapped in here, and I point out, “Dude you’ve only got twelve rooms in this hotel.”

 

“Yes, the rooms aren’t the big attraction here,” we amble towards the reception, “Rome simply doesn’t get the tourist trade that Wolf Creek and Wells does, the Inn was already catering more or less exclusively to the business trade so I’ve expanded on that.  These rooms are more for travelling businessmen and women.  The two main attractions the Willows offers are the dinning and the conference rooms. It dabbles with hosting parties too.”

 

Passing through the reception I wave at the glaring woman who schools her face whenever Peter’s looking at her.  We exit to the left and the door tinkles merrily as we trigger a tiny bell over the top of it and we’re clearly in a huge restaurant.

 

The part we’re standing in is partitioned off, “This area is for the Inn’s guests,” and I count twelve tables, but not small singles, they’re all big enough for four people to sit at but there was only one double bed in our room.

 

“If the rooms aren’t all taken and the main restaurant is full up, tables up here can be used on a first come first served basis,” we step out further so I can take a good look around.

 

We’re at one end of the giant room and what I assume is the front of the building is a stone wall with a mural of the stream we crossed and numerous willow trees and summer flora and fauna.  Running down the long length of the building are yet more windows and they look out into the dark and what would be the back of the original Inn.  Various tables and chairs fill the interior and there are lots of screens up, all painted with willows.  In theory you could make each area very private and cosy.  Spotlights on the ceiling shine down and show off the beautiful wood flooring. 

 

Re-evaluating the room I decide our end isn’t the front, it’s a sidewall, the windowed area is the front, and that would mean the other long wall opposite it is the back wall and it’s hung with tapestries of woodland scenes.

 

At the other far end is another partitioned off area with sofas and couches and a desk, so that must be the waiting area, and next to that is the bar, where someone is polishing glasses and watching us, he’s sloppy and I catch the flare of his eyes, so another werewolf, and that would make sense if Marianne really is going to take over all of this.

 

“Mr Hale, would you like dinner now?” A woman dressed like a waiter has appeared near us and I jump and flail a little bit.

 

“No, I’m showing Stiles the business, we’re meeting Marianne in one of the conference rooms soon, we’ll eat later,” he glances at me, “Unless you want a snack now?”

 

“I’m good, though I might need something in a few hours,” I smile innocently at the woman and her eyes flare too.

 

“Very well sir,” she steps back and starts setting up tables, they must open soon and then Peter’s tugging me in to inspect the kitchens, which are huge again and filled with people being very industrious and noisy.

 

“Most businesses make the mistake of making their kitchens too small, if you want to expand later on, and we have room in the Willows to do so, your kitchen won’t be able to cope.  Plus they cater for the old Inn which specialises not only in business but wedding parties, birthday parties, in fact lots of parties, the weekends are normally booked up seven to eight months in advance,” he’s got us off to one side as the shiny modern kitchen bustles with hard working staff.

 

“That makes sense,” I tell him over the noise and he nods, “So how do you get the food all the way over there?” I jerk my thumb in the general direction of the old Inn.

 

“There’s a back door that opens up to a covered area, two upgraded golf carts are kept there with specially modified trailers so that food can be transported and kept hot or cold.  There’ve been no breakages or spilled food yet,” he says in my ear and I’m curious to see them but let him take me back out into the restaurant.

 

“In quiet months, like now, some of the tables are taken out and there’s more space between dinners, in the busier months, like summer, more tables can be added to fit more dinners in,” and he’s right there is a lot of space around each table.

 

“And I’m guessing if you don’t fill it to capacity in winter it doesn’t look so empty,” appearance is a big thing in most businesses.  If you look busy you’ll be busy.

 

“Very good,” he gives me a pleased smile.  “Do you want to walk or drive to the old Inn?”

 

“Walk,” I am not getting back in the damn Hummer until I absolutely have to.

 

Exiting the restaurant we stroll up the gravelled drive the few hundred feet to the old Inn and now I can see the extensive grass lawn out the back of it and a patio area, it’s fenced off and that must be one way to keep the guests corralled and where you want them to stay when they’re holding parties.

 

Ivy is clinging to the walls and it looks dignified and stately, if a little smaller than I was expecting, especially as I’ve seen the new rooms and restaurant.  Peter takes me around the front of the building and into the reception here, which is tastefully set out with an olde worlde charm in dark woods and a thick red patterned carpet.

 

“Mr Hale sir,” the man behind the desk smiles, “We were told you’d be here soon, the normal room is set aside for you, and would you like a drink set up for you?”  I’m pointedly ignored.

 

“Stiles?” Peter turns his full attention on me and he’s playing up a little being the concerned and caring suitor, I’ve learnt that much about his mannerisms, “Would you like something to drink?” My fingers get more kisses and the man misses the way Peter’s eyes crinkle, he’s enjoying this.

 

“Just some lemonade,” and since two can play at that game I lift Peter’s fingers up and kiss the back of his hand like the movies, his grin gets bigger while the man behind the desk looks sour.  Oh there is something going on, none of the employees are happy to see me with Peter.

 

“Hmm, a lemonade for my wonderful fiancé,” Peter waves at the man, “I’ll have the usual, I assume Marianne is already here?”

 

“Yes sir, she’s waiting for you,” the flash of eyes is the only thing to betray his annoyance at Peter, “I’ll have the drinks sent up.”

 

“Excellent,” and then Peter’s tugging on my hand and leading me to a staircase, where we walk up hand in hand as he points out photos and paintings on the wall explaining some of the Inn’s history.  We walk up another set of stairs and he stops suddenly, he mouths the words, “Be careful, be harmless,” at me.

 

Seriously, he thinks I can be something other than harmless? I waggle my hand at me and shrug, which in turn leads him to eye me up and down and not being harmless when his eye flicker red.  Rolling my eyes at him leering at me I tug on his hand and lead him up a few stairs.  He overtakes me and when we reach the top he’s back in command.

 

Honestly werewolves.

 

We have to go down a corridor to another set of stairs, these are smaller and more pokey, I have to look down at my feet so I don’t trip, he’s patient with me and then at the top we come to a small room with a big set of double doors.  On either side of the doors are two beefy looking guys, they have sunglasses on, inside and nowhere near sunshine.  I’m going with goons or minions set to guard the Alpha we’re meeting.

 

“And here is our most prodigious room,” Peter breezes towards the muscle twins, they don’t twitch as he puts his hand on the door knob and turns it, “Welcome to the Sanctuary.”

 

Pushing open the doors he steps inside with flourish and I take my time to look about, the room has to be about half the floor size of the entire Inn and it’s also in dark woods and the carpet is red, the wallpaper on the bottom half of the walls is red, and the over all effect is red.

 

I’m noticing a theme with Peter, I think his favourite colour is red.

 

A huge round table sits in the middle, plush executive chairs I’ve seen on TV are set around it, there are things on the wall for projectors to shine down on and whiteboards to scribble on.  Set on one wall is a big map marked ‘Rome’, and I’m impressed with everything.

 

I let out a whistle, “Wow, Peter, it’s awesome,” and it’s the way he preens at the compliment that makes me add, “It’s got that touch of something,” mainly red, “You had to have had a hand in this.”

 

“Hmm, yes, this room is one I had a lot of input in,” he’s back to being pleased, “The interior decorator did the whole place up, with my direction, but this one…” he smirks at me, “I couldn’t resist it.”

 

It’s got taste, and there’s a bit of evil lair that is so Peter.  It’s easy to see him scheming up here and planning world domination with minions scurrying like ants.

 

“But can you resist parting with it?” A woman’s voice asks and I do my jump, flail, squeak in a manly way routine at the woman I hadn’t even noticed standing quietly in a corner.

 

“Marianne,” Peter’s voice has a hint of warning as she steps closer and she is a serious babe, tall, willowy, long dark hair touched with grey, I can’t tell the colour of her eyes and she’s dressed in a navy skirt suit, she exudes power and control.  She reminds me of Lydia for some reason.


	28. Chapter 28

“Peter,” Marianne’s voice has turned sultry and sensual, “So good of you to come so quickly,” and her walk is just as over the top.  Girls at high school would kill to be able to pull off this level of sheer femininity and dominance.

 

I’ve had practice dealing with Lydia, Allison, and Erika, strong women don’t intimidate me anymore.  Plus I’m not really a slave to the system of obedience so I wave at her and act as harmless as it’s possible to get, it’s not stretching my acting abilities in the slightest, “Hey Marianne, nice to finally meet you,” and it is, I admit I’m curious about her, damn werewolves and their ability to get my curiosity aroused.

 

Stopping in her tracks she eyes me up and down, it’s not the leering way Peter did, it’s more like the way everyone else in the world does, as if I’m not worth their time.  “And you would be the human pet that Peter’s picked up,” her insult is good, her tone is perfect for a put down, and she is so like Lydia I can’t help laughing at her.

 

Both Marianne and Peter are staring at me, though Peter’s eyebrow is cocked so I whisper loudly, “Dude, I did not know you were into pet play, kinky,” like she hasn’t just called me a name that puts me lower on the food chain than an Omega, I screw my face up at him and make a playful ‘rawr’ at him.

 

“Pet play...” Marianne seems off balance and is back to studying me.

 

“Yeah,” I stretch my neck and expose it to Peter, running a finger over the skin I add, “I think I could totally rock the collar look, what do you think?” I turn to stare into Peter’s eyes that are blazing bright red, I know I’ve just deliberately flaunted myself at him big time and he’s gaze is glued onto the side of my neck, his pupils dilated and huge.

 

Closing his eyes and shaking his head he snorts and says, “Stiles.”

 

“Totally behaving,” I grin at him and then his blue eyes are smiling back at me.

 

“Hmm,” he lets that go and turns back to Marianne, “Yes, this is Stiles, my Fiancé,” he emphasises the last bit.  “We had to cut short our road trip for this, a road trip we were both enjoying immensely.”

 

“It was awesome,” I rock on my heels, “We did a boat trip in Salt Lake City, and then in Cheyenne we did the tourist thing, you should totally check out the gardens there, and the food at the hotel was out of this world, though Peter,” I nudge him, “Says he can cook Italian that well and I am so holding him to that.”

 

Peter’s not saying anything just being indulgent and watching Marianne cope with me, she’s doing what most people do which is not cope in the slightest.  I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I don’t react to werewolves the same way as other humans do; it often puts them off.

 

“He’s the Alpha,” a new male voice snarls, and there are a pair of handy amber glow in the dark eyes to help me spot him lurking in the back, way beyond Marianne through a darkened doorway, and where I can’t make him out properly, “You should be the one cooking for him, pets should know their place.”

 

That provokes a snarl from Peter, “Greg,” and that contains a warning in it, a warning about teeth and claws.

 

“Dude,” I nudge Peter again, “He’s just jealous you got me first,” I lift Peter’s hand again and kiss his knuckle softly.  Though I’m starting to wonder at Marianne’s pack and how they all seem to hate my guts and why the Alpha herself is so very much in Peter’s face.  It almost seems as if she’s been trying to seduce him for herself. Her eyes are glued to Peter’s hand still near my mouth and her eyes flash red.

 

Ah crap.

 

She is trying to do that.

 

Great now I’m standing between her and Peter.  Alphas aren’t the most subtle creatures in the world if they decide they want something, I’ll have to stick close to Peter the whole time in case I have an ‘accident’.

 

Damn it, I thought I was getting away from all of this, instead I’m smack in the middle again, literally.  It’ll be best if we can hurry this along and flee to Wolf Creek or something.

 

Dropping Peter’s hand I put mine together with a clapping noise and then rub them, “Okay folks let’s get this powwow started, we’ve been travelling non stop, I’m going to be hungry soon and frankly,” I sniff myself, “I could do with a shower, or a dip in one of those freaking awesome looking bath tubs.”  Bouncing over to the giant table I pull out a chair and drop into it groaning at how good it is.

 

“Oh my god, Peter we have got to get a chair like this,” I wheel it back from the table and then spin in circles as Peter sits in a chair next to mine and Marianne stays where she is.

 

“We have a better chair at home Stiles,” he tells me and I stop mid spin trying to work out if he’s winding me up, patting my knee he smirks, “there’s a matching pair of them in our study.”

 

“Woo hoo,” I’m feeling so smug, not only do I score the good chairs I get a study too.

 

“Interesting,” the Beta wolf Greg says as he steps forward to the table, his red hair as short as mine and his eyes still glowing amber, “Your little human must have incredible ‘special’ talents that please you enough that you care so much for his comfort,” from his tone and insinuating, yet weird inflections, I think I’ve just been called a whore to my face.

 

The low growl from Peter is not friendly in the slightest and this is going to end up in a fight at the rate Greg’s antagonising him.  Peter isn’t his Alpha but Marianne is and she should be stopping this fight but she’s letting it play out, so either she’s pissed Peter’s picked me or she wants this fight so she can legitimately kick Peter out of her territory indefinitely, suddenly the way she’s dragging her heels over this deal Peter’s been brokering has sinister undertones.

 

“Huh,” it’s my turn to eye up Marianne and every boring human instinct I have is going haywire right now, she’s so like Lydia it’s frightening, and I can’t discount her hating me for taking what she thinks is hers, but neither can I rule out her wanting Peter to kill Greg and then calling foul over it.  I don’t know her well enough to guess whether she’d willingly sacrifice Greg, Betas aren’t rare, but loyalty is.

 

Outwardly nothing’s changed about her but I’ve bumped her up to red alert in my head and when Greg makes a smart-alec comment about my eyes and how Bambi like they are Peter partly stands up, out of the corner of my big doe eyes I can see his claws are coming out, they’ve not scratched the table yet but it won’t be long.

 

Reaching out blindly I run a finger over the top of one of his closest hands, it’s enough to stop him in his tracks and maybe he was right about me being an anchor.  Addressing Marianne I ask her, “Why aren’t you dealing with Greg the suicidal werewolf?  You have to know he’s provoking Peter and it’ll end with your Beta’s insides decorating this room.  What do you get out of his death?”

 

“How dare you question me,” she hisses, her eyes red.  Peter, however, has retracted his claws and has a thoughtful look on his face.

 

“I notice you don’t deny sending Greg to his death,” I point out cheerfully, glancing at the Beta in question, I bat the eyes he’s insulted at him, “Dude how much does she not like you to throw your life away just to get out of the deal Peter’s made with her,” I act like I don’t know she might have a thing for Peter.  “A bit callous of your Alpha to sacrifice a pack member like that, guess she must consider you to be a replaceable pawn.”

 

That gets Greg’s attention and he’s snarling, “My Alpha would never do that to any of our pack.”

 

“Yeah?” I taunt him, “Well guess what?  That’s what she’s doing… Or…” I leave a few pauses, “She really doesn’t take rejection well, because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

 

“What?” Peter’s frowning at me.

 

I take a certain amount of pleasure in turning the tables on him for once and I very slowly and deliberately run my eyes over Peter, “Oh come on Peter, you know what you look like, don’t tell me you of all people are fishing for compliments…” I can see the moment he catches on.

 

I’m expecting him to be pissed or surprised I don’t expect what happens next.

 

Spinning the chair he stands and stalks towards Marianne and gets right in her face as the two muscle twins burst into the room and freeze uncertain of what to do next and Greg’s the same.  The sound of Peter slapping her across the face is loud even as he screams, “You stupid bitch, you’ve been screwing up this deal because you want me to fuck you?”  That’s followed by another ringing slap and his face is starting to change to his Alpha form, teeth lengthening in his mouth, “I’ve spent months making my territory safe enough for Stiles to live in it, to broker non aggression treaties with my neighbours and you’re ruining it over your hormones!”

 

Everyone in the room is frozen, Peter’s panting breaths are the only sounds I can hear and then the muscle twins roar and throw themselves at Peter’s back.

 

“Aw crap!” I fall to the ground and edge under the giant table as my new Alpha catches them by their throats and throws them back out of the room, and from the resounding crash, into the small winding staircase.

 

I think a war’s just broken out between our packs and while I have every faith in Peter to survive this I’m human and far more breakable.  Why does this always happen to me?  Why can’t werewolves talk about these things like reasonable adults?  All he had to do was tell her no.


	29. Chapter 29

“How dare you!” Marianne is snarling at Peter and she goes to slash him with her claws but he dodges nimbly out of the way, “How dare you attack my wolves!  They were only defending me.  And how dare you bring a human nothing into my territory and flaunt him like he’s worth something!”

 

He throws a punch that grazes the side of her face and I wince at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, “Stiles is not nothing, he is everything!”

 

A movement out of the corner of my eye has me glancing to see Greg hiding under the other side of the table, the smart wolf is staying out of both Alphas’ reaches but Marianne is probably going to be pissed at him later for ducking out of the fight.

 

“He’s a stupid human whore rolling over for you,” she yells back and a few more blows are traded.

 

There’s just one small problem with Marianne thinking she can hold her own with Peter in a fight, her Alpha shape is that of a true wolf, if bigger than that of a natural wolf, his is a monster, he’ll win every time in a straight fight and there’s the sound of ripping furniture as he lunges at her, his claws tearing the sturdy looking wood as if it were butter.

 

Evading him by the skin of her teeth she hurls more insults about me, “If I’d known you were into teenage sluts, I’d have gifted you a ticket to lands who’s laws allow you to rut with pre-pubescent children selling their bodies for worthless trinkets like chairs!” Oh that is so a dig because I liked these chairs, and they are awesome chairs.

 

“Still in the room!” I call out from my really obvious and flimsy hiding place, “And at least I don’t offer up my whole pack on a silver platter because a pretty face wanders past!”  The second the words leave my mouth I face-palm because that was a really dumb move to get myself caught up in their screaming match, even though I’m partly the reason for it in the first place.

 

Silence falls in the room and I can just make them out at the far end, neither of them is moving and I shut my mouth for as long as I can, I don’t think it will be long enough but I hang in there and I’m close to breaking point when Marianne’s foot twitches.

 

A low snarl drifts over and it’s not Peter so it has to be her, “I have not offered them up, I am the Alpha here.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” I stay under the table, “That’s why all your little minion wolves have been so pathetically eager to please Peter, if they had tails they’d have wagged them.  Oh and a word of advice, never ever give Peter power, he doesn’t share well, you’d soon find yourself in a not so shallow grave after he rips you apart, literally.”

 

From this angle I can’t see their faces but they start to back away from each other and I can soon see Peter’s face, the psychotic monster is on show and in plain sight.

 

Marianne isn’t taking this lying down though and retaliates with, “And what does that make you little human boy?  His partner or his chew toy?  Are you a good pet to him or a good Omega?”

 

“Alpha,” I correct believing that Peter believes it so it’s not technically a lie.  “I’m a human Alpha to stand beside him in our pack of two, to live in our den, to run with him in the woods, though he’ll have to slow down for me.”

 

Crap this is not proving my point of Alpha-hood, and I crawl out from under the table checking for any other lurking werewolves, but it’s just us, the muscle twins are missing, presumed unconscious for now, Greg is under the table and Marianne is leaning against the wall.  I know wolf body language and she’s hurt, Peter got in far more attacks than she did and she’s hiding the pain she’s in.

 

Standing up I brush myself down like nothing’s happened and walk slowly towards Peter, I’m careful not to move too quickly or to startle either of them.  And then I’m right next to him and I nudge him with my shoulder, very gently, as I lift my left hand, “And soon I’m going be his legally wedded husband too,” and we present a united front against her.

 

I don’t even see Peter’s hand shoot out to grab my right wrist causing me to yip in a manly way. I find he’s pulled it up to his face and is sniffing at it while he cradles it. I tug surreptitiously and his hand tightens in warning, I’m so not getting my arm back yet. He rolls his eyes to catch mine and then he deliberately opens his mouth, full of his wolf teeth, and scrapes them along the inside of my wrist as I yank hard on my arm and my heart begins to thunder in my chest.

 

“Peter! No!” I’m shaking and I can’t tell if its just from rage at him breaking his word to me or fear that he’ll bite me and turn me against my will.

 

All I get is a growl so deep it’s practically sub vocal the bass of it thrumming through me.  He scrapes his teeth over my skin again, not once does he pierce the skin but I’m still pissed at him doing that and I may thump him on the shoulder with my free arm.

 

Suddenly my feet aren’t on the ground anymore and I’m falling to the floor, Peter following me down and I expect to crash painfully, but he’s got that in hand and does something so I land gently with his body on top of mine, my hands and arms pinned down by my wrists and he roars, “Mine!” straight into my face making my teeth rattle in my head.

 

Struggling under him gets me absolutely nowhere, and from how we’re positioned he manages to slip a knee in between mine, meaning I can feel the growing erection he’s getting pressing painfully hard into my hip.  Panicking and wanting him off I redouble my efforts writhing and bucking into him uselessly.  He moans into my neck and I freeze realising that I’m only making it worse, that this is exciting him further.

 

Now I’m statue still I can hear him whining, “Mine,” over and over again near my ear.  His body is trembling and his claws are unsheathing and sheathing close to cutting into my wrists but thankfully not making me bleed just yet.

 

Putting everything I’ve learnt about werewolves, and Peter, to the test I tense under him and he follows suit doing the same.  Taking a deep breath I let it out and relax as much of my body as I can and at the same time I tilt my head to give him access to my neck and fight my own human instincts to protect such a vulnerable place from his razor sharp teeth.

 

For a few seconds he does nothing and then he strikes driving his teeth into the side of my neck, it takes me a moment or two to realise his teeth are human again and he’s marking my neck in an absolute frenzy.  Sucking the flesh there he bites down and twists, it hurts like hell but I don’t stop him and as he lets my wrists go I wrap my arms around him and stroke my fingers through his hair and over the nape of his neck as soothingly as I can until he slows down and starts to lick my neck.

 

His dick is as hard as rock against my hip but he doesn’t take advantage of the situation once, he’s keeping our lower halves unmoving.  Sitting up he shifts back slightly and then grabs my t-shirt to pull me up after him and my right wrist is clasped in his other hand, it’s brought back to his mouth where he bites and sucks and licks at it, doing his best to mark it as gently as he can, and I keep my grunts of pain as quiet as I can.

 

Around us a few more wolves have appeared and Marianne is staring at Peter with such horror in her eyes that I’m going to guess she’s never seen his unstable side before.  Flicking my eyes to the other wolves they have the same expression on their faces and when my gaze touches Greg’s he flinches like I’ve punched him.

 

Pressing a kiss to my tenderised wrist Peter sighs and stands up helping me get to my feet, I stagger slightly and he reels me in to nestle into his side an arm sliding around my waist to trap me there, and he’s so treating me like a damn girl again.

 

“You’re insane,” Marianne’s voice wobbles and she’s trembling, “Absolutely insane.”

 

“Completely,” Peter agrees giving her his urban smile though he lets his true psycho-ness out for a few seconds making her stumble back a step or two. “You should do your homework better Marianne, you’d have known I’m not sane,” he chides her

 

“You’ve not shown it to us before,” Greg points out, his eyes downcast and his shoulders held in such a way to signal his submission to Peter, clearly not wanting to provoke the Alpha.

 

“I’ve been busy,” Peter shrugs it off and starts to pet me, running his fingers over my face, my head, my neck, I submit to it with bad grace, “I had to have everything in place so I could go and fetch my wonderful Stiles, I knew I’d have to convince him that he would be kept safe and provided for, and that I’d be far enough away from his friends and family that I couldn’t threaten or harm them.”

 

My eyes jerk to his in surprise and he smiles cruelly at me, “He’s always such a good boy, willing to give everything to those he loves,” his hand on my back tightens even as my stomach drops and I know I’ve walked willingly right into whatever trap he’s laid down for me.  “So ready to sacrifice himself for them no matter that they take him for granted or throw him away without regard.”

 

Aw crap, he’s caught me out and I have no idea how he’ll retaliate.


	30. Chapter 30

A human could easily hear a pin drop in the room as the werewolves are staring at us and I’m frantically trying to come up with a way to not get myself killed or send Peter on a rampage to Beacon Hills to extract some kind of bloody retribution from my family and pack.

 

“Oh Stiles,” he breathes my name softly, “I had a campaign all mapped out in my head to win you from Derek, I was going to make them all pay for wronging me,” and he grins wickedly at me, “I know you so well Stiles, how strong you are, how you would have fought me to the last bitter moment, I was going to sneak past it all and tempt you from their careless fingers, to shower you in the adoration you deserve, and then,” he snarls, “I was going to rub it in their faces how you chose me over them, how I got to have you as mine, my mate, my partner, MINE!

 

“I’ve even found a way to mark your wrist with my teeth, permanently, and not turn you,” there are gasps around us, I’m going with that’s a significant thing, “You’ll wear my mark forever and then we can mark mine,” his body language is changing and it’s like the time at the fountain when we got engaged, he’s nervous, uncertain.

 

“What does marking my wrist signify?” I ask him warily, worried and so off balance and not wanting to screw up even more than I already have.  I’m back to not understanding his motives and I know he’s crazy so you have to throw the rulebook out but I need something to work with.

 

“It signifies that we’re mates, bound to each other forever until death do us part, more permanent than any other ceremony, we’ll wear each others brands on our skin there for all to see,” he explains and my stomach knots up because I’m fairly certain he’s talking about way more than a wedding ring, and I’m also sure that this isn’t something you can get escape from with a divorce and a pair of lawyers to battle it out for you in court.

 

Swallowing I have to lick my suddenly very dry lips and his eyes follow the movement, oh crap, how many times have I wished for someone to notice me and want me?  And somehow I got Peter, now here is a case of being careful what you wish for.  “Oh,” is my weak come back my thoughts scattered in so many directions I can’t pull them together at the moment.

 

“I’ve pushed you again,” he murmurs, “I keep forgetting how young you are, don’t worry you have a few weeks to get used to the idea,” and he’s being creepy and controlling again.

 

He’s clearly focusing fully on the ‘Relationship’, the thing is getting a capitol letter and air quotes in my head now, and in the recent past as long as I reassured him that the ‘Relationship’ wasn’t in danger he’d be a happy little wolf, it should still work.

 

“Thanks,” I try and wind my way though the mine field of not lying to him, “That’s a huge thing Peter, a big thing, bigger than marriage, I promise to give it the attention it deserves,” which will be how to wiggle the fuck out of it because he is not biting me.

 

And like a switch being thrown he relaxes completely and I have a very snugly and cuddly Peter on my hands and in my arms, “Thank you Stiles,” he nuzzles under my chin and his hands roam in a PG way over my back, “You are so good to me, so generous,” humming into my skin he rubs his nose over my shoulder.

 

Patting his shoulder in return I wait for him to let me go and he isn’t letting me go, he seems happy to stand here like this forever when my stomach breaks the stalemate and rumbles loudly.

 

“You’re hungry,” he pulls back, “I’ll find you food, can you wait until we get home? It’s only a few hours away.”

 

“Um?  Home? I thought we were staying here?” And there’s a handy restaurant over there, except he’s just had a fight with Marianne and he’s probably right, it’s safer at home and I push the thought of what else he gets when we get home out of my head, we had a deal and he can’t have sex with me before we get there.  “Yeah, I can last that long Peter,” and I’m really hungry and I don’t want to have to sit in the stupid Hummer again today but I like living more.

 

“Good,” he’s pleased and he finally lets go of me to catch hold of my hand, “We’ll get our bags and go,” lifting my hand up he kisses my fingers reverting back to his act of being charming and harmless.

 

“’Kay,” I agree and get ready to go sit in the damn car for another few hours before home and... I shudder away from that thought

 

“Wait,” Greg interrupts, and everyone turns to him, Peter with red eyes and teeth that are starting to grow again.  “Alphas of the Wolf Creek Hale Pack, please will you stay and accept our hospitality, let us make up for our insult to Alpha Stiles, we truly didn’t know about the mate bond.”

 

The only thing Peter does is snarl evilly while Marianne is so not dealing well with what’s happened, and now I get why Peter said her and Scott were both on an intellectual level.

 

“Um, maybe it’s best if we left,” I tell Greg and flick my eyes between Peter and Marianne.

 

“We haven’t finished our negotiations,” Greg says and goes to sit at the big table, finally he’s ready to do business, all it took was his Alpha and mine to fight and then Peter to mark me painfully and publically.

 

“Well,” I stay where I am not wanting to test how Peter will react if I try and walk away from him, “We wanted you guys to take the Willows like the original agreement stated and then we were more than prepared to take a share as a gift to show how close our two Packs were, you did used to let Peter come and go in your territory so he could hunt for antiques.” I have no idea if they’ll let Peter within sniffing distance of their territory now they know how crazy he is.

 

“How big a share?” the redhead leans forward and steeples his fingers, I think I’ve just found the brains of the Pack when Marianne is out of her depth.

 

“Only a tiny portion,” I wave my free hand, “Say, ten percent? It leaves you the majority, and obviously if Peter or I stay here we stay for free and don’t have to pay for meals,” because I’m assuming he’s staying here for free as the current owner.

 

A ghost of a smile flits over Greg’s face and he nods, “Sounds like a fair deal to me, I’d have to wait for my Alpha to ratify it,” and she’s just as lost as she was moments ago.

 

Standing up he walks towards me and holds his hand out.  Peter is starting to growl and I murmur, “It’s okay Peter, Greg wants to shake on our deal, and if he’s dumb enough to hurt me you can make me snow boots from his pelt,” and that’s something I’ve learnt from Derek, if you’re going to threaten someone be completely over the damn top and ridiculous but act like it’s possible and people will think you can do it.

 

Our handshake is probably the worst handshake in the history of handshakes, as Greg really doesn’t want to squeeze my hand.  “Deal,” he says and steps back elbowing his Alpha in the process, “Again we apologise for the misunderstanding, Alpha Peter Hale’s actions in wanting to build a friendly relationship between our Pack was, with hindsight, part of his courtship of you and not intended for our Alpha at all,” oh god what the hell did he do to make them think he was courting Marianne?  Peter can be incredibly charming and charismatic when he wants to be and I dread to think how he came across to this pack for them to have gotten that idea.

 

“Awesome,” I beam at Greg for having a brain in this situation and I try to extract Peter and myself from this with, “And once your Alpha has agreed to this someone can phone Peter and tell him and everything will be fine,” I’m not a hundred percent sure of that and it must show because all of the wolves turn to stare at me, including Peter.  “Um, well as fine as can be expected,” I amend and that’s true so they stop staring.

 

Edging backwards I take Peter with me, as he’s attached to my hand, “So, we’ll be on our way…”

 

“Stop,” Marianne says and I wonder how she’s going to screw this up and Greg must have the same idea as he’s twitching by her side looking like he wants to muzzle her, “I would like to make amends to Alpha Stiles, as such I cordially invite you to dine at the restaurant this evening.  My pack will watch over us all, you will be as safe as I, or any Alpha, can make you.”

 

I think it’s a crappy idea but I’m not sure how to decline politely when she adds, “Let my pack see you both together, let them see the marks Peter has bestowed upon you, how his world and your world now revolve around each other,” that sounds kinda ritualistic, “Let us celebrate this union of flesh and blood and mind and soul, a true mating is rare, but I have seen it with my own eyes and will howl it to the moon.”

 

Greg’s relaxing and apparently Marianne has somehow made up for her earlier serious screw up with that little speech to the point that even Peter is nodding his agreement, “If you’re willing to howl it to the moon you have accepted MY Stiles as mine, we will eat with you, but I will watch my mate and guard him with my life.”  Greg winces at that and Marianne blanches but nods and the whole thing has been smoothed over.

 

And I get to eat, awesome.

 

If my hands are sweaty and my heart’s beating a little fast that’s no ones business but mine.


	31. Chapter 31

As good as her word, Marianne has us settled in the partitioned off area in the restaurant, only her and Greg have joined us for dinner, though the serving staff are mostly made up of wolves anyway, and the muscle twins are sitting at their own table strategically placed so they can intercept anyone approaching us.

 

Peter pulled my chair out for me and currently has his arm across the back of my chair, this got some glares from the staff until Marianne calmly addressed me as Alpha, and Greg has been careful not to look me in the eyes as if I’m as dangerous as Peter is.

 

The news of our ‘mating’ must have spread because as the waiter approaches to take our order he’s careful to keep his eyes down, he also calls me Alpha, though Peter gets his full name of ‘Peter Hale’ and I only get ‘Stiles’, that’s probably because they don’t know my full name yet and we get a message of congratulations from him.

 

With Peter pretty much on high alert and watching anything and everything that moves, Marianne being really Scott like and not knowing what to do next, and Greg being a Beta and trying not to intrude, it’s up to me to carry almost the entire conversation, not a hardship in itself, and I rise to the occasion beautifully as I babble on about Salt Lake City and Cheyenne, “And here’s the boat we were on,” thank god I loaded so many videos onto Facebook, and I show them the clip of Peter smiling softly.

 

“And here are the four photos of us after we got engaged, oh and this one is of Peter’s engagement ring because it changes colour, blue in sunlight and red under artificial lights, like his eyes,” keeping myself psyched and happy on the good parts of the memories these photos represent means I can fool them into thinking I’m happy about being with Peter, it’s all in the presentation and how you show it, as long as they don’t ask me anything direct I can hide my real feelings on the matter.

 

“The stone itself can change colour?” Greg sounds impressed and I rave about the sapphire, I may verbally vomit information at him on how the sapphires are formed and the chemical breakdowns involved.

 

“I was just browsing while Peter dealt with the pushy saleswoman when I noticed the ring and the stone,” I warm to my subject, “And really the colours suit Peter perfectly,” our first courses turn up and I go quiet as I eat.

 

“Hmm,” Peter’s delicately dipping his spoon into his soup, “Stiles is being his normal modest self, he found both our engagement rings for us and kept me from ripping the saleswoman’s throat out for being so incredibly irritating, she simply wouldn’t shut up and tried palming the worst rings off on us, she seemed to think Stiles’ ring should be a woman’s ring as if he were female rather than the man I know him to be.”

 

“He hunted well,” Marianne says and all three werewolves nod while I shove bread in my mouth not wanting to contradict Peter about me and modesty, it’s something I’m not known for.

 

“Show them your thumb rings,” Peter waves a hand so I pass them over and they like the platinum one but love the gold one with the wolves and the moon.  Getting them back I slip them on my thumbs, “I myself have overlooked him on more than one occasion, and then I took a much longer look, I have never been disappointed in his ability to mimic an Alpha wolf when he so clearly isn’t a werewolf, he’s such a natural human Alpha.”

 

“Oh?” Greg wipes at his mouth finished with his soup and leans back in his chair, I have to admit I’m intrigued with what Peter’s going to say next, he’s been stating I’m Alpha since he essentially forced me to go with him.

 

“It’s not everyday a human will taunt a cornered and trapped wolf, or will continue to battle and not stand down, to give their all to those around them uncaring of any rewards, up to and including daring to challenge an Alpha over a newly bitten,” it sounds good and then I blink because this is supposed to be me and I’m sure I’ve never done any of those things.

 

It’s broken the ice anyway and we all talk, well I get dragged into a grown up conversation that contains very little in the way of video games and is heavy on bitching about taxes and the state of the economy.

 

As we wait for the main course Peter’s hand lands on my thigh and I jump but control the urge to flee, his hand doesn’t stray in the slightest, it’s just warm and anchoring.  He takes his hand back when the food arrives and I exercise my ears listening to them talk. As the meal progresses and they all warm up to each other again I can see why Peter didn’t pay it any mind to stop here, they clearly do get on, and there’s camaraderie happening at the table.

 

With both Peter and Marianne relaxing the rest of the room relaxes, you can almost see the tension draining out of the wolves hovering around and working.  Even Greg is smiling and laughing at something witty Peter’s just said.

 

And finally I can relax too.

 

I know I’ll have to give in to Peter’s sexual demands eventually, but no one said I couldn’t put it off for another night and I innocently ask, “Sorry nature calls, where are the toilets?” I do need to pee and I want to try something, so I stand up calmly as Marianne points to the far end near the bar.

 

Not bothering to say anything else I stroll slowly away and ten seconds later Peter’s walking next to me, “Stiles,” his hand takes my right one and he’s back to watching the wolves carefully, damn it.  I was hoping he’d have calmed down enough to let me go on my own, then I could start phase two which was to get him to agree to let us stay the night here.

 

“Hey Peter, you need to go too?”  I ignore his frown and keep walking, in the men’s I refuse to pee in front of him and use one of the two stalls instead.  Washing my hands I focus on good things, in order to confuse a werewolf’s senses you have confuse your own signals first, they can’t pick up the truth so easily then, hence why sarcasm is such a useful tool, you can tell a lie as a truth.

 

“You’re upset,” Peter’s standing so he can see my face in the mirror and I can see his.  “You left the table happy but got upset when I joined you?  Why?”  His eyes are flickering between blue and red and I may have over tipped my hand too soon, “You were quick to make the deal with Greg, and your eyes have lingered on Marianne,” now his teeth are starting to grow, “I will tolerate no transgressors, you belong to me and only me.”

 

Confused at why he’s acting so weird I stare at him.  He’s acting almost jealous of the other wolves?  Oh my god he’s actually jealous!  No one but him has ever really wanted me for me, why the hell would Greg or Marianne be interested in me? I’m just a warm body they can overpower and use, and there are plenty of prettier wolves available to them.

 

I’m stuck in the damn men’s room of a restaurant Peter still owns and he’s jealous to the point of being physically aggressive towards me, he’s not been aggressive since the night he put me in hospital. Aw crap, how do I fix this?  I just wanted him to stay the night here so we wouldn’t have to go to Wolf Creek tonight, I just wanted to put off sex for one more day.

 

“Your heart has sped up Stiles,” his claws are out now, “Why has your heart sped up?”  He snarls it at me slinking closer and lifting his clawed hands in the process.

 

I blink as I realise I can tell him most of the truth, twisting it to my own ends, reading those stories about fairies has come in handy, I’m not becoming a lawyer though, “Yeah my heart’s sped up, you’re scaring me Peter, you’re wolfing out, losing control and I have no way to escape when you attack me.”

 

That stops him and he tilts his head to study me, “I won’t attack you Stiles, you’re my mate, but I need to know which of the wolves is tempting you from me, I need you to stay loyal to me.”

 

“Peter,” I stand as still as I can, and attempt to reason with him, what is my life that I’m reasoning with an insane werewolf in the men’s toilet, “I’m not interested in the other wolves here, and I’ve not tried to escape from you since we met again in Sacramento…”

 

“The park,” he interrupts me, “You ran to the park to escape from me in Salt Lake City.”

 

Aw crap, he would remember that now, how do I phrase this? “Really?  I was upset and you’d already helped me fight off a panic attack shortly before that,” desperately casting around in my mind I rerun the scene through my head and then I smile crossing my arms, which should come across as defensive, “Because I remember sitting there and wondering how to get back to you, to the hotel we were booked into, I had no other way to communicate with you then.  And what happened after you found me and reassured me?”

 

It’s his turn to be a bit defensive and he crosses his arms, “We kissed, and you agreed to let me prove to you that I could take care of you, you willingly took my hand.”

 

Oh thank god he remembers, “Exactly, so in effect I’ve not tried to run away from you, I thought I wasn’t good enough,” I let my arms fall to my side and he mimics me, signally openness, then I step closer to him, “Though you’re right, I was upset when you joined me as I walked to go pee,” he stiffens again and goes back to studying me and I have to set myself up to mean this fully, “I thought things had been settled with Marianne’s pack, I guess they haven’t and we can’t stay the night, I was looking forward to the giant tub too, but if you’re not a hundred percent sure of our safety here at the Willows, we’ll drive the extra two hours home,” and I give up my mini rebellion at trying to stay here, it’s not worth the risk of upsetting him, I’ve already had to deal with an upset Peter once today, my neck and wrist will be tenderised from that ordeal for days.

 

He’s studying me and then circles me sniffing, I have to stay as calm as I can and not do anything stupid but I do offer my neck up to him again, to show him he’s still the Alpha and in charge, that the ‘Relationship’ is not in any danger from the other wolves leading me astray from him.  I’m going to have to be much more careful in the future, and try to make sure I don’t endanger the ‘Relationship’, and if I do I’m going to do my best to hide behind it for protection as much as possible.


	32. Chapter 32

Stopping in front of me Peter leans in and sniffs my bruised neck, hands reach out to my hips and I inhale sharply but don’t fight him as he very slowly pulls me into a hug, “I’m sorry Stiles, I overreacted.” 

 

Holy mother of god, he just apologised to me, that’s unheard of in Alpha circles, and I carefully put my hands on his shoulders and press into him turning my head so he can bury his nose into the marked flesh of my neck.

 

“It’s okay Peter, you were only defending me, protecting me,” well more the ‘Relationship’ than me but there is no relationship without me, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of me,” and suddenly having to put up with Allison and Lydia bitching about their relationships and men not talking gives me an idea, “Um, I’ve never been in a proper relationship before so I’m going to make mistakes but you’ve called me loyal, and I have no intention of being unfaithful to you, I have zero interest physically in other people, after Brad, I’m not sure I’m capable anymore,” and that part is pure honest truth

 

One of his hands is rubbing that soothing circle on my back, “And it’s been years since I’ve been in a relationship and I’m not sane anymore,” he admits, “We’ll work on it together, thank you Stiles,” he nuzzles my neck softly, “You’re proving your status as my anchor, my equal as an Alpha and my mate, what a stunningly wonderful Raven you are.”

 

Huh?

 

“Um, Raven?” That is so a girl’s name, damn it, why does he keep making me the girl?

 

“Hmm, Raven, traditionally a trickster, smart, and the Corby family are so very intelligent, with mimicry, tool use, problem solving, oh yes Stiles, you are my wonderful Raven, your feathers and plumage seem so dull at first glance, it takes time to see how you can make one colour so incredibly vibrant,” he’s licking at my neck and a hand moves down to squeeze my ass, I’m not sure whether to be flattered, creeped out, or both.

 

“Um,” that has to stop being my fallback commentary or else I’m going to start wondering if I’m turning into Scott.

 

“Beautiful, sneaky little Raven, you smoothed out the misunderstanding Marianne’s pack was under and you’ve travelled so far so fast, you’re tired and you saw that lovely bath,” he huffs a laugh in my ear making me shiver, “No wonder you were so focused on that instead of me,” he nuzzles me again, “I forgive you Stiles.”

 

“Um,” damn it I did it again, “Thanks?” Wait why am I accepting the blame here?

 

“And I hope you forgive me too,” he hints.

 

“Yep,” I nod into his shoulder, “Total forgiveness is given,” even if I don’t know quite what I’m forgiving but if it means a happy Peter I’m all for it, I think it’s because I forgot to pay homage to the ‘Relationship’.

 

“Good,” his arms tighten, “I’m glad we sorted this out, let this remind us both that talking and communication is good for any relationship,” and then he lets me go.

 

If this were a TV program we’d so have hot make up sex, but since I’m trying to get out of sex I invade his personal space and press a kiss to his cheek as a reward for not slaughtering or maiming me.  He seems a bit shocked but when I offer up my hand for him to hold he smiles.  Clinging to the thought of being alive keeps me happy so I can give off happy vibes as we stroll back to the table and we’re in time to pick out our desserts.

 

They have a huge selection of ice creams and sauces for me to choose from while the rest have the sensible yet boring adult choices of cheesecakes and Greg even has a cheese and biscuit selection.

 

Our server for the desserts is female and I can’t help noticing that her eyes are lingering on Peter for a fraction longer than they should do, at first I think she’s afraid of him because he’s a very scary dangerous crazy wolf, and then her gaze slides over him and she is so into him.

 

Huh, so Marianne wasn’t the only wolf charmed by Peter’s outward manners and charisma.  There’s a rolling coil in my stomach that’s eerily similar to how I felt watching Lydia and Jackson before the wolf thing, and then when I overheard about the female Alpha and Derek.  It’s not as strong but it makes me pause, because apparently Peter’s wormed his way under my defences, and it seems I really do like him.

 

Damn it.

 

This complicates matters and I stab my spoon into my ice cream. Caring about him and being forced into sex with him is going to hurt me in ways Brad and Oren never did.  I cling to the once a week thing and remind myself that I was just the Omega for Derek too, I can do this I can survive, I can make a life for both of us.  I’ve already helped Peter deal with Marianne, and he’s approved of my input with the website, he appreciates me and I can learn to deal with his needs.

 

Letting my hand nearest to him drop down, I blindly grope for his leg and the heat of his thigh is strangely peaceful against my palm.  It’s enough that I finish dessert and settle back to do that grown up talking thing, I wave away the coffee, not a good thing for me to have, ever, but it tastes so good.

 

My bladder signals me that it needs to be emptied again and I nudge Peter, “Sorry nature calls again,” this time I hold my hand out to him to take and he stands up to escort me there, which is when I notice that most of the restaurant is empty, in fact it’s empty of everyone but staff, “Hey when did everyone leave?”

 

“About twenty minutes ago,” Peter says and I glance at my watch to see it’s gone eleven, “You were a bit engrossed in the conversation to notice.”

 

“Yeah but it was a totally awesome conversation, who knew Marianna was into Buffy? And that she has the entire set of special edition DVDs?”  It was a surprise but a good one.

 

“Hmm,” he opens the door for me and I slide into a stall as he uses the urinal, “We’ll have to buy some of the TV series that you like and you can introduce me to them, after you’ve done your homework, of course,” he’s saying.

 

Grinning I exit the stall, “Of course,” I agree, “And don’t forget the online gaming thing too, oh and I have got to show you xbox stuff,” I’m getting excited, this bit of our lives together is going to be so good, it will outweigh any bad bits, I’ll make sure of it.

 

This time around there’s no growling or confrontation, we just hold hands and walk back to our table. It shouldn’t be that much longer until we leave and I clench Peter’s hand to steady myself, an unexpected benefit and couple-y thing I can lean on now.  Maybe it will help with the sex too, though I doubt it.

 

Sitting back down Peter finishes his coffee and I play with the straw in my lemonade as my knees start to jiggle under the table, I’m getting restless again, my hands are sweating and I’m struggling with my nerves.

 

Peter’s hand touches my knee and I look over at him, “Marianne, I’ve changed my mind,” he says, “It’s late, and Stiles has already pointed out that our battle was due to misunderstandings, ones we’ve cleared up, so we will be staying the night, and we’ll leave in the morning.”

 

My jaw has dropped and I’m seriously considering the possibility that aliens exist and have taken over his brain when his finger gently pushes my mouth closed, “And Stiles has somewhat fallen in love with the giant tubs in the bathrooms.”

 

“Dude, they’re awesome bath tubs,” I automatically reply and both Greg and Marianne laugh at my comment.

 

“Then stay,” Marianne smiles and stands up, “We can finish off signing papers in the morning,” she taps Greg’s shoulder, “We still have to agree the amount of the Willows you and Stiles will get after the property and business is transferred to my Pack.”

 

“True,” Peter stands too and I scramble to my feet wondering how things have gone my way and if there’s a hidden catch waiting to bite me, “It shouldn’t take too long, and this will give us time to stop and buy groceries on the way home, I deliberately emptied the house of food, I knew I’d be gone for some time to get my Stiles,” his hand curls around mine and I lace our fingers together.

 

Saying our goodnights Peter leads me to the door to the Reception, and the same woman from earlier is manning it, or wolfing it.  Gone is the sneer when she thinks Peter isn’t looking and she’s giving off such submissive vibes I’m shocked but the tiny smile on Peter’s face means he’s caught it and likes it.

 

Side by side we go to our door at the far end of the corridor and our room is exactly as we left it, turning to me he smiles, “Go on then, go splash in the tub,” I don’t need telling twice and hurry to go and fill it up with hot water.


	33. Chapter 33

Splashing in the water I shift from end to end in the giant tub and I wonder if Peter would consider one of these for us.  This thing is beyond awesome.  My shoulders are almost covered and I can stretch right out without touching the other side.

 

I’m fairly sure I could swim in this thing too and attempt floating on my back, it doesn’t quite work and I’m forced to splutter a bit when I hear that deep laugh and glance up to see dream Boyd sitting on the floor grinning at me.

 

This night has gotten better and I give him a wave, which he returns.  Dream Boyd is a sign that I could easily meditate if I wanted to and I slip through a simple breathing exercise that combines visualization so my brain has something to do, this one involves numbers and colours.

 

I’m still far too new at this and the images slip through my fingers a few times as I soak in the hot soapy water.  Ducking under the water I scrub at my hair and face to resurface feeling amazing.

 

Drying quickly I put on a clean pair of trunks, brush my teeth and peek around the door to see Peter lying fully dressed on the bed messing with his phone.

 

Going to the bed I slide under the covers on my side and grin at him, “Better?” He asks.

 

Nodding I know my smirk is getting bigger, “You have got to try the tub, it’s so relaxing, I feel freshly scrubbed inside and out,” a yawn surprise attacks me, “Best bath ever.”

 

Tapping on his phone’s screen he snorts, “Yes Stiles, I’m glad you enjoyed it, now go to sleep.”

 

He’s not in a bad mood but he’s very focused on what he’s doing, curious I inch closer, “Is something wrong? Have you and Marianne fallen out?  Is it best if we leave?” Sitting up I go to get out of the bed but an arm holds me in place and I startle.

 

“It’s fine, we’re fine, just some messages that I need to deal with,” he says and I narrow my eyes at him, “Honestly Stiles, it’s nothing that important, just boring, I’m closing a deal on some land in Florida and the lawyers on both sides are being picky over wording and timings.  I’m sure they’re doing it to increase their hours so I have to pay more.”

 

“Grandkids of fairies man,” I lay back down and roll over to talk to him, “They’ll tell you something and make it sound like something else, then it all vanishes in the morning.”

 

Pausing Peter tilts his head at me, “Hmm, that is startlingly accurate, I knew there was a reason I didn’t like lawyers.”

 

I sneak closer to him and close my eyes, the heat from the bath is starting to dissipate and it’s triggering my body to shut down and sleep, the sound of his breathing is as soothing as ever and I tumble down more exhausted than I realised.

 

*

 

As usual Peter is plastered up against my back and I’m getting used to it, in fact it’s getting routine.  It’s been months since I’ve been cuddled and I was a very tactile person in Beacon Hills, I can’t stand people touching me now, but this is Peter and it doesn’t make me feel sick when he touches me.

 

Revelling in this fact I lie there and let his breathing relax me, just one more benefit of this thing we have going on.  Yawning I snuggle the covers under my chin and enjoy the fact that I don’t have to get up and do anything, there’s no school, no work, no pressure.

 

Except I quickly get bored and spot my phone.

 

Logging on I find another message from Danny asking me if I’m okay, I tell him some work thing with Peter came up, which it kind of did, and that we’ve had to cut our road trip short.  I can work on the stuff I have on Cheyenne and add it to the Awesome Road Trip of Awesomeness folder later on.

 

I try really hard not to think of what Peter’s going to do to me later today and instead focus on how careful he’s been of me so far, how careful he’ll probably be in bed, and how much leeway I should have to negotiate with him for those things.

 

A nose snuffles my shoulder and the nape of my neck, it tickles a little and I smirk at the cuteness, I always thought I’d be the big spoon but being the little spoon is surprisingly good.

 

The change in his breathing is slight but I know he’s awake now, “Morning,” I whisper.

 

“Morning,” he mumbles into my skin and his hand curves up to rest on my chest, right over my heart, I’m relatively comfortable with him doing that now and my heartbeat only stutters for a second or two.

 

Neither of us moves and I soak up the peace, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to let down some of my defences and I kind of float there the meditations coming easy for once.  Peter’s breath is warm on my skin, the rhythmic movements of his chest are easy to follow and I catch his hand in mine linking our fingers.  I’ve never had this before either.  One more couple-y thing so many others take for granted and it’s mine now too.

 

But of course I can’t stay still and end up shifting around.  Flopping onto my back I can look into Peter’s face and I’ve never really studied it before, he’s mostly been a figure of nightmare and I’ve done my best not to memorize him.

 

First thing in the morning his hair is not perfect, it’s a bit fluffy, but not wildly out of control.  His eyes are so very blue and harmless.  His stubble is just starting out and looks scratchy but not too much. And he has a small dimple in his chin, how did I not know that?

 

My fingers are reaching to touch him before I can think to stop them and I trace the length of his jaw with one finger, the dimple is traversed and I track upwards over his nose and along his forehead which has a few creases where he’s frowned.

 

Trailing my finger down and around his eye I’m fascinated by his cheekbones and then his lips, which move suddenly and kiss the tip of my finger. He’s searching my face with his eyes a confused expression on those annoyingly model perfect features.

 

Dropping my hand I mutter, “Sorry,” he probably didn’t want me doing that.

 

“Don’t be,” he says and then does the same to my face, his finger is so gentle I barely feel it on my skin and as he traces over my lips I mimic him and kiss the tip, he smiles at me.

 

And it strikes me that this is the last day of our road trip, this is the last day that I have immunity, kind of, from him insisting on taking things any further, I don’t really trust his once a week promise, when he has me in his home then I’m fairly sure he’ll turn more nasty as I won’t be able to escape from him so easily.

 

So this is really it, this is the very end of the time that I can do things to please me instead of him, as long as I respect the ‘Relationship’ and pay homage to it.

 

We’ve done lots of couples things together, things I’ve never had and always wanted and right now I want to know what it’s like to wake up and kiss someone, so I lean over and kiss him.  He doesn’t have morning breath and I hope mine isn’t too bad and he freezes to start with before he relaxes and kisses me back.

 

Every time we’ve kissed he’s been gentle and this is no exception, his lips are careful and tender and everything I could ever want in a romantic or emotional moment.  Tangling one of my hands into his hair I tug him down until I’m on my back and he’s pressed against my side, one of his arms slung over my body.

 

That ache shivers through me and I try to ignore it but I have to break the kiss as my breathing is messing up again.  Licking my lips I get to see him follow the movement but he doesn’t pounce, he waits for me to recover and initiate the next kiss, only the aches start up faster and stronger and with a gasp I jerk my mouth from his.

 

“Stiles, are you okay?  If this is upsetting you...” his fingers on my chest are stroking a little circle and it feels good on my skin, achy, shivery, almost feverish, but good. They’re fainter echoes of the sheer sexual desire I drowned in with Derek, but they’re definitely there.

 

“I’m okay,” I try and say but I’m breathless and I squirm on the bed tipping my head back and inviting him to kiss me.

 

“Hmm,” he murmurs and hovers his mouth over mine still leaving that final distance up to me. A distance I bridge latching onto his mouth, he lets me control it and I’m grateful to him, grateful for this opportunity, I really wish we hadn’t had to cut our road trip short because I’d have days of this left to me.

 

My stomach rumbles getting our attentions and we glance down at where the sheet covers it and if on cue it growls again, pressing a swift kiss to my mouth Peter says, “I’ll have a very quick shower and we’ll go for breakfast,” he slides from the bed and I get a brief flash of how aroused he really is, he hadn’t acted so turned on, and then he flits into the bathroom and I pout on the bed and poke my belly for ruining my fun.  I don’t have a lot of time left now and I want to make the most of it.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marmalade is orange preserves (jelly?) I wasn’t completely sure on the US translation for that.

Strolling to breakfast with Peter we pass through the Reception and there’s a man there, he also drops his eyes and acts submissive to us.  Stepping into the restaurant there are a few suited up individuals eating, who must be here for the conference centre, we get the same table as yesterday and a very large menu to choose from.

 

“Alphas,” the waitress’s voice is pitched low, “Our Alpha has taken over the Sanctuary Meeting Room for you, if you let us know the time you expect to be there she’ll be waiting for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Peter glances at his watch and gives her a time, about two hours from now, “That way we can eat, pack and go at our own pace over there.”

 

“Yes Alpha Peter Hale,” she writes down our food orders for us too and then backs away respectfully.

 

I’m very aware of the fact that we’re in a room full of werewolves so I keep my questions to myself, I really want to know what we’re doing straight afterwards, whether or not we’re stopping off on the way to his house, or anything really.

 

Breakfast is awesome with very generous sizes and I get a few glares from the other patrons, their plates have normal portions on them and I smirk to myself at getting extra.  I’ve got various breakfast fruits and some toast, while Peter again has mostly meats and toast he covers in honey, the way he savours the toast lets me know he has a sweet tooth when it comes to honey and he’s unimpressed when I slather mine in orange marmalade.

 

Taking my Adderall I wait for him to finish his coffee and then we’re going back to our room and packing up.  He volunteers to carry the cases and I scope out the room to make sure we haven’t missed anything.

 

Loading up the Hummer he drives us the tiny distance to the conference centre, parking up in the designated area.  We’re early and he takes me around the Inn to the back and I can really see the patio area and the grassed bit for guests when they host a party here.

 

It’s a giant circle that’s fenced in and there are strategically placed posts in the grass area with small hooks at the top, Peter explains that they string lights up so that guests can see at night, and there’s a choice of lights from multicoloured to shaped ones depending on the type of party.

 

Entering from the back door he shows me how the ground floor walls can be folded in and most of the floor opened up for sit down meals, catered for by the restaurant, or discos, and the Willows is applying to expand into weddings so that everything from the actually ceremony itself all the way through to the evening party can in held here.

 

“Dude, that’s gotta be good for the happy couple, having everything in one place,” and for the first time I wonder about our wedding, will we have guests, and if so who?  Where are we even having the wedding? Here seems nice, and I add the question to a mental file to ask Peter later, if he’s in a good mood.

 

“Certainly less stressful for Brides and the wedding organisers,” he agrees and shows me a not too secret door that leads to a small pantry, “When the food comes over from the restaurant they keep it here if needed and over here,” he presses a button and taps in a numeric code on a keypad unlocking a door I would never have known was there, “Is the old servants stairs that lead up to the top.”

 

“Oh my god, that is so cool,” I crowd into him, “Can we use it?” I look up and the stairs aren’t that narrow, they’ve probably been built in such a way that servants could carry stuff without spilling it.

 

“Of course,” he locks the door behind us and points out the security measures that are triggering hidden cameras, “That way safely and privacy can be upheld in the Sanctuary, while food and drink can be brought up for meetings.”

 

“And it’s a secret passageway,” I grin at him enjoying being in on the secret and it appeals to me on so many levels.

 

At the top is another keypad he has to tap in another code, the door unlocks and instead of the meeting room we’re in a very smart dinning room, with sofas and comfy chairs scattered about, I suppose whoever is using the meeting room would leave their meeting and come here to dine before going back out and debating big things.

 

I’m really unsurprised when the overall effect of the room is red, I’m really hoping that his house isn’t red.  It’s an okay colour but I like a bit of variety in my life too.  Though the red carpet is a lush thick soft thing I can feel even through my converse, the red velvet curtains are tied back with gold edged ties, and the table itself is the same dark wood of the meeting table set with red tablemats.

 

“You totally had something to do with this didn’t you?” I tease him, “Dude it’s as awesome as the main meeting room,” he preens under my praise and leads me to the meeting room which hasn’t suffered too much from his fight with Marianne, god I hope today’s meeting goes better than that.

 

Pulling out one of the great chairs I drop into it, “Oh man, these chairs are amazing, and I’m holding you to the promise that the one at home is better,” I close my eyes and spin around and around.

 

“It is,” he says and I have to stop spinning when I start to feel a bit sick.  “Stiles…”

 

Opening one eye I look at him and he’s acting nervous again, “Yeah Peter.”

 

“While I enjoyed it, I’m curious why you kissed me this morning, it was a very lovely surprise,” and Peter’s fidgeting in his seat not quite looking at me.

 

Flushing I sit up properly and twiddle my thumbs, “Um, well, it’s our last morning before we get home, and you promised you wouldn’t… Um, I mean, I wanted to do that while I was free to say no, so that it was all me, for me, I mean for us,” I’m babbling and fumbling the explanation, “Peter I wanted to kiss you because I could, and because I enjoy it, not because I have to.”

 

He’s frowning and I hope I haven’t upset him, “So you enjoy kissing me?” He asks and I nod enthusiastically because kissing is all kinds of awesome, “And you didn’t feel pressured into it?” I shake my head because it had been my idea and my choice.  “But you think you won’t have a choice when we get home?” His frown is getting deeper.

 

“Peter,” I scoot my chair closer, touching him seems to calm him down and sooth him faster, so I put my hand on his knee, “When we get home, you’re going to insist on certain things,” I dodge around what he’s said he’s taking from me, “And I know you said it was just once a week, but there’s other stuff, like kissing, that you’ll either demand or not want…” I trail off as his eyes shimmer red, oh crap, I really don’t want to upset him.

 

“Stiles I thought you understood…” he gets to his feet abruptly and my lap is suddenly filled with Peter as he sits down straddling me, knees either side of my hips pinning me to the chair, “When I claimed you from Oren you reeked of him and his seed, your time in the hospital and in the home helped dilute it, and you’ve been wearing my shirts at night so the scent is barely there anymore, my own is covering it and sinking into your pores deeper than his ever did.  The way our scents mingle on your skin and my own is like a balm to my wolf, but I can’t smell my seed on you, or yours on mine, you’re only partly claimed by me and I’m only partly claimed by you.”

 

“Um…” I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with my hands and gingerly place them on his hips, “Peter, I’m glad I’m smelling more like you, and trust me when I say I really do want to smell right, to smell the way you want me to,” because that means a happy Peter and a happy Peter will be a good Peter to Stiles.  “So you’re saying you want sex so I smell right?” It’s a bit weird but, hey, werewolves aren’t the most rational of creatures when it comes to their instincts.

 

“No,” he sighs and puts his hands on my shoulders, “I like you Stiles, I want to have sex with you, the smell is simply a very good side effect,” well damn, there goes that theory.  “Is sex with me really such a bad thing?” He asks and those blue eyes of his catch mine and hold them fast.

 

“I… Yes and no,” I’m trapped in the chair by his body and we’re talking about sex, my hands are getting sweaty again, “It’s not you so much as the sex, I really don’t want it, and normally I don’t want people touching me either but I’m starting to like your touches, they don’t make me want to scrub my skin to get rid of them,” how am I supposed to explain the lingering malevolent after effects of Brad and Oren?

 

“You used to like being touched in Beacon Hills,” Peter’s cocked his head to one side and is studying me closely making me squirm under his scrutiny, “Is this new aversion to touch because of those two werewolves who mistreated you?”

 

And he’s really trying to understand, badly, but trying none the less, I nod, “Yeah,” I shudder in a bad way feeling cold, “After… After Brad… I can’t Peter, I… I just can’t.”

 

“Hmm, I’m sorry Stiles but the first time I really need to be inside of you, to fill you with my seed,” he’s petting me as he says it and I swallow nodding so he’ll know I’m agreeing with it, I’m not happy but I’m agreeing just like I did in Cheyenne.  “Perhaps after that we can try something different, if you helped me I could use my hand, but I’d have to cover you with my seed, and the shower would be the most logical place.”

 

“Um, what?” Did he really just offer to jerk off over me and not fuck me?  “You’d… You’d do that for me?” I’m beyond stunned, werewolves can be fairly single minded about things.

 

“Yes,” he smiles at me, “I meant it when I say you’d have to help me, you’d have to participate, touch my skin, encourage me,” and that’s not so bad, I can do that, I can, and encouraging him means he’ll finish faster too.

 

“I… Peter… Thank you,” I’m not often speechless but I am right now, I wrap my arms around his back leaning into the impromptu hug I’ve initiated with him, “Thank you.” God how grateful am I that instead of being fucked I’ll simply help him jerk off?  But I am grateful and I fist his shirt to hold him tightly to me.

 

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs into my ear and I have enough sense to angle my head so he can nuzzle into my neck as his own arms slide around my shoulders.


	35. Chapter 35

Hugging Peter in the meeting room I let the heat from his body sink into mine and chase away the lingering cold from thinking about Brad.  His nose runs along my bruised neck ever so gently, and he sniffs me over and over.  I just cling like a demented monkey to him and bask in the possibility that this thing between us is going to be epic for the right reasons.

 

“You smell happy,” he says and I nod into his shoulder, as he’s straddling my lap he’s a little higher than me.

 

“Dude, I was freaking out about that, and now you’ve fixed it,” I tell him, “Thank you, seriously thank you.”

 

He rumbles but doesn’t say anything and we stay there cuddling for a while, it’s been so long since I’ve cuddled I hadn’t realised how much I missed it, “God, Peter, you give awesome hugs,” I try and wiggle closer.

 

“So you don’t mind my touch?” He asks and I shake my head, because really?  We’re full on cuddling and we did the same in bed.  On my neck I can feel his mouth turn up in a smile.  The ghost of a laugh comes from him and then he’s stiffening in my arms and pulling back, “Well it appears Marianne is nearly here,” he sighs and presses a kiss to my forehead.

 

I let him go reluctantly and then try and act innocently.

 

Peter’s sitting in his own chair and I’ve gone back to spinning my chair in circles when Marianne and Greg walk in.  They’re both smiling and settle themselves in the chairs. 

 

Marianne is wearing another suit and looks far more in control today, and acts a lot less flirty with Peter.  Greg is smiling and he’s careful not to look us in the eyes too much.

 

It’s utterly anticlimactic. The meeting barely lasts five minutes, a bit of paperwork gets signed and Peter is no longer the owner of the Willows, but we will be the joint owners of twelve point five percent of the business in a week, and when we get married we’ll get another twelve point five percent as a wedding gift.  Giving us a twenty five percent overall share.

 

It’s more than the original ten percent but Peter hasn’t said no and he’d been surprised when they offered the wedding gift, then he’d smiled his happy smile so things are good at the moment.

 

“Hmm,” Peter stretches, “It’s been interesting doing business with you Marianne.  Give Stiles and I a few months to settle into Wolf Creek and we can discuss the possibility of your wolves crossing my, sorry our,” he pats my shoulder, “Territory.”

 

Greg’s jaw drops and he stares incredulously at Peter, Marianne blinks a few times and this is obviously a big thing, “I take it Peter’s not let anyone into his territory?” I ask knowing how fanatical Derek is about any wolf passing through Beacon Hills.

 

“No,” Greg is still staring outright and Peter isn’t getting offended in the slightest, “He’s made it extremely clear to everyone that his territory is off limits to any and all werewolves short of family emergencies.”

 

“Well you let him in yours,” I point out, “I guess he must trust and like you then,” and Peter’s mouth tips up in a smirk at that and a flicker in his eyes lets me know he’s up to something, it’s probably sneaky too.

 

Getting up to leave for another meeting, an Alpha’s work is never done, Marianne hugs Peter, carefully, and when she steps towards me Peter growls, it startles all of us, including Peter, though Greg nods, “We’ll keep our distance until the mating is complete,” he bows to us and steps back, “It’s been a pleasure to meet Alpha Stiles and if our two Packs continue to grow closer I hope to see you both again soon.”

 

I’m reduced to waving goodbye to them and I let Peter take my hand, firmly, and lead me from the Inn, I think he might be a bit embarrassed at growling at Marianne and I’m going to have factor in Peter’s possible tendency to get a little jealous of people paying me attention, or is it him perceiving me to be paying them attention?

 

Climbing into the Hummer with a sigh, I’m glad we won’t be stuck in here for too long and I pull out the I-Pad so I can start on the Cheyenne pictures, while glancing up frequently so I can start familiarising myself with the area.

 

Rome is in a flatish area but we start to go up inclines and we pass several signs telling us we’re entering national parks, and that will means lots and lots of trees for Peter to run around in.

 

A sign comes up and it’s marked for both Wolf Creek and Wells.  My stomach lurches at it but I calm myself down because I’ve talked to Peter and everything’s going to okay.  I don’t know why I do it, but I reach out to him and put my hand on his thigh, then I tense and wait for him to push me away, when his hand comes off the steering wheel I hide my flinch but he only pats my hand.

 

I’m so used to people not being there for me, I try so hard to be there for them, but I know my dad’s job is ridiculously demanding and having all those deputies murdered didn’t help, he was always pulling double shifts, not only to pay the bills but to keep the department running.  Scott was busy building his life with Allison and I was only really a stand in for him until he found her, that’s why he moved on from me so easily, I was his fall back and then he and Isaac happened too, and I’m glad for Isaac’s sake, he’s a great guy he deserves good things.

 

And then there’s Derek.

 

Wow, thinking back on it with hindsight Derek really didn’t need me at all, I bet I was useless in bed too, he’d probably have more fun with his just his hand, he never said I was bad, but I was a virgin, and then he never said I was good either, or what bits were good.  He’s so much better off without me and I know that female wolf is going to be good for him too.  The guy is smarter than he acts but tends to just rush in, give him even a chance to plan and he’s not that bad, he’s calmed down as the Alpha and has far more control, all the Betas said he was getting nicer while I was living there with him and Isaac, less likely to injury them when they were training and he was staring to open up and talk more, I guess that was where he was getting the hang of being an Alpha cursed with teenagers in his Pack.

 

Peter’s leg is warm under my hand and I focus on that, again he’s helping me just by being there, my tentative hope that this is all going to work out is still there and I breathe as normally as I can.

 

Lost in my head I blink when we pass the sign for Wolf Creek and I peer about, Peter wasn’t kidding when he said it was tiny, it’s barely a fifth of the size of Beacon Hills.  He drives down into what must be a tiny valley and the lake is huge with what I assume is Wolf Creek huddling to one side of it and what must be Wells is on the other side way off in the distance.

 

The lake isn’t perfectly calm but it’s still enough that the mountains or really pointy hills are reflected in the water and there are hints of sky and clouds too.  Oh god I’m really going to live beside that thing and wake up to water every single day, I used to love beach days, I used to love the surf and the sea.

 

Other than buildings next to the lake and the lake itself, all I can see are a few straggling roads and lots of trees, there are so many trees that I smile because I’ve missed the forest.  The trees aren’t that different from Beacon Hills and Peter’s said he wants to go walking and running in the woods, plus having an Alpha werewolf with me means I don’t have to worry about any other predators, no one messes with an Alpha.

 

Reaching the first houses up close I peer at them and the style is different, I guess they’re built for snow and stuff like that, it’s not a big difference and I’m not sure most people would catch it.

 

Moving on we come to the main street and that’s it?  Seriously?  Wow this place is tiny, I feel like I’m some big city kid and I’m being dragged to the middle of nowhere.  Turning down a side street Peter pulls into a parking lot, “Sorry Stiles, but I emptied the house of food before I left, we really are going to have to go shopping first.”

 

“That’s cool,” I’m getting a bit excited about exploring my new home town, “We can stretch our legs and check stuff out,” I tumble out of the Hummer and there are a few people wandering about, they gawk at the Hummer like they’ve never seen one before.

 

Locking up he takes my right hand and we go to the convenience/grocery store handily located next to the parking lot, or at least well planned, the place is called the Wolf Wells Farm Stores, it doesn’t look like a chain and its both bigger and smaller than I expected.

 

Peter pushes the cart and we walk in side by side, I’m craning my neck to get a damn good look at this new place, if I’m going to be living here I want to know what they do here.  First day in my new home with Peter and we’re already doing domestic and homely things like grocery shopping together.


	36. Chapter 36

The store is bigger than most of the convenience stores in Beacon Hills but considering the size of the town I’m thinking that this is the main store for the two towns here on the lake, meaning if we want a mall we’ll have to travel to it.

 

This is going to take some getting used to.

 

Peter is happy enough walking up the food aisles and at the moment he’s fondling a grapefruit, “Hmm, do you like this variety?” He holds it out and it’s a grapefruit so I nod and it goes in our cart.

 

We’ve barely made it out of the fresh fruit and veg area when the employees very obviously vanish after giving Peter nervous looks, wow, how has he managed to upset them already?  Normally he has to try and murder people before they start actively avoiding him.

 

Completely unconcerned he keeps shopping and we stroll down the home baking shelves. Leaning in, like I’m reading the ingredients on the bag of flour he’s holding, I murmur, “Where did everyone go?”

 

Out of the corner of his mouth he whispers back, “To call the Sheriff’s department,” I flinch at the mention of my dad or at least the reminder of my dad, “I don’t get on well with her, she really doesn’t like me for some reason,” and the woman must have good instincts, “They’ve noticed you’re bruised and the marks I gave you have come up splendidly on your neck.”  I keep my hand down from my neck by sheer force of will.

 

“So they think you’re beating me?” I’m shocked that at the first sign of domestic abuse the sheriff is called but I’m impressed too and wish the rest of the world would do that.

 

“Hmm, sort of, they really don’t like me,” he flashes his sneaky smile at me, “I may have upset them when I started buying up disused property for the holiday letting business,” shrugging he puts the flour back and picks up a different bag, “It’s not my fault I got the properties at such low prices, no one else wanted them and the banks wanted to shift them on.”

 

“Uh-huh,” I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but I let it go for now and watch Peter puttering around and filling up the cart, some of the things I’ve never seen before in my life but he seems to know what they are.

 

Our cart is getting full and I fidget by his side, everyone else in the store manages to be wherever we’re not.  It’s almost like magic. And I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall, or the giant werewolf to tear his way out of the bag.

 

In the hygiene products and medicine area we get to the part I don’t want to think about but Peter is holding up the lube and asks, “Are you allergic to any of these?”

 

“Um…” I examine them and pick out a tube, “I’ve used this one with no problems,” he takes three tubes and I have a bad feeling about the shower thing not working out, he’s probably going to insist on full penetration most of the time.

 

Eyeing up the condoms he doesn’t pick any up, “Are you alright without condoms? I can’t get you pregnant and I don’t have any sexually transmitted diseases, werewolves simply can’t catch them.”

 

“I’ve not been with anyone who isn’t a werewolf,” I point out, “And they never used condoms either,” I really don’t want to discuss sex and condoms with him and then he moves on with only the three tubes of lube in the cart.

 

Standing at the shampoo area he fusses over the products, I don’t really care as I don’t have a huge amount of hair, and he’s sniffing some of them and then screwing his nose up like they’ve personally offended him.  Sighing he says, “I’ll have to keep ordering my products by mail, I was hoping there’d be something here,” he’s not happy at this and I step closer and run my hand down his arm, it earns me a soft look.

 

Moving on we discuss washing powders, and as I’m going to be doing the bulk of the laundry the final decision is mine. The power doesn’t go to my head and I pick out the detergent I prefer to use but can’t always afford, some of the really nice fabric softener goes in the cart too when someone coughs to get our attention.

 

I was starting to get used to the lack of people around us and I turn to see a man in a deputy’s uniform.  He’s taller than me, broad shouldered, fairly trim, dark skin, black hair and really dark almost black eyes, his mouth is too big for his face and I keep my thoughts to myself on that, I’m fairly certain that’s a sign of maturity on my side.

 

“Deputy,” Peter’s voice is so urban and polite that if you know him you know he doesn’t like this man, “Did you want some fabric softener?”

 

“No Mr Hale,” the Deputy is just as polite in that ‘I don’t like you, but this is my job, and I’ll be polite to your face,” way.  “We got a call from a concerned citizen about the boy,” the man simply nods at me like I’m some kind of exhibit.

 

“Stiles?” Peter glances at me, “Why would someone be concerned about Stiles?  I assure you Deputy he’s a very law abiding young man, why his own father is a Sheriff, and he’s been with me since we walked into the store.” Peter takes my hand in his, “I know you had a little spate of vandalism but I thought that was all over and done with,” he’s acting like he doesn’t know why the Deputy was really called and I can be innocent and dumb when I need to be.

 

Frowning the Deputy stares at our hands and he’s really doesn’t like that we’re a couple, “Mr Hale…” He starts and jerks his head at me again, “Is he even legal?”

 

“HE is quite legal,” Peter’s façade is breaking slightly, “And HE is my new fiancé, now if you’ve quite finished we have more shopping to do and then I want to show Stiles his new home.

 

“So is there anything else Deputy?” And Peter’s hand tightens on mine, there is a serious amount of dislike going on from both sides, I do my best to rub a thumb over his knuckles to help him keep control, if the Deputy is any good he’ll be looking for anything out of the ordinary that Peter does, it’s best if he doesn’t see anything.

 

“Make sure the kid goes to school, we don’t want truancy in the towns, and make sure he sees a doctor,” the Deputy says and eyes me up in a very calculating way.  I have to make myself hold my ground and stare back at him, though Peter stiffens angrily beside me.

 

Deciding that the guy is a jackass with a badge I turn to Peter and lean into him, “We’re not going to be much longer are we?  Kinda getting tired and if we are going to the doctors before we go home…”I leave it hanging and hope that Peter will react caringly towards me.

 

“Of course,” He’s instantly curving into me, “We’ve had a busy few days, and you’ve not long gotten out of hospital,” the Deputy is clearly making mental notes, “There’s only a few more things to get and I’ll take you home.”

 

“Thanks,” I glance over at the Deputy who’s listening in.  I wonder just how good his sarcasm monitor is, “Thank you Deputy, I wish more towns had a Sheriff’s Department who go out of their way for their citizens like you are, I think I’m going to settle in just fine,” I give him the smile that would have my dad suspicious and all over me in seconds and push the cart down the aisle taking Peter with me.

 

Rounding the corner I sigh and mutter, “They really don’t like you do they,” to Peter who glances at me and shakes his head, we go back to our shopping and true to his word we’re soon at the checkout.

 

The poor woman working the checkout is staring at Peter like he’s going to pounce on her and rend her limb from limb, her hands even tremble as she scans our items.  Peter isn’t paying her any attention and is busying himself packing our things into the brown paper bags.

 

As I’m the one emptying the last few things from our cart I make sure I smile harmlessly at her when her eyes flick to me.  Since I am essentially harmless on my most dangerous of days this isn’t stretching my meagre acting abilities and halfway through she stops being scared of me and I get a few tentative smiles back.  Awesome, we are making progress here.

 

Moving the now empty cart down I load up the full bags being careful not to bump anything, I’ve no idea what’s in where and I don’t want to crush the eggs or any of the softer fruits and vegetables.  I learnt that one the hard way, never put a frozen turkey on top of a carton of eggs, it makes one hell of a mess.

 

A soft, “Oh,” comes from the woman and she’s holding the damn tubes of lube in her hands and staring at us, well her head is twisting from Peter to me to Peter and back again.  She has to be in her mid thirties and she’s blushing like a thirteen-year-old convent girl, or what I’m assuming one of those would blush like, and it triggers off my own blushing.  Peter, the bastard, isn’t phased at all and after a brief look to see what her problem is he ignores her and carries on packing.

 

Quickly scanning the tubes she goes to scan the last few things but there’s this tilt to her head and the way she’s biting her lip that lets me know that this is going to be a hot piece of gossip in the town.

 

Meanwhile the Deputy has meandered over and is leaning against a set of shelves watching us and scowling.  He’s not in Derek’s league but he’s trying harder.

 

Paying for our groceries Peter hands over his card to the woman and she gingerly takes it from him like she’s afraid of him again, and I really want to know what he’s done to upset people this much.

 

He puts his card away afterwards and lifts my hand up to kiss it, “Just the doctors to register you and get you checked over and then home,” he tells me and I nod.

 

The woman’s eyes have bugged out of her head, and I have to conclude either she’s never seen romance in her life, she’s freaking over two guys being together, or else it’s Peter freaking her out.  It could be a combination of all three.

 

The Deputy follows us out of the story and openly watches us load the Hummer, and it’s seriously weird to have the law enforcement not like me, I’m so used to hanging out and going to barbeques with them, and when I was younger I’d play hide and seek in the offices.  Another thing I’m going to have to get used to while living here.


	37. Chapter 37

“No,” Peter’s voice is low and menacing and he’s glaring at the doctor and nurse.  We’d gotten me registered with ease, and the doc was willing to make an emergency appointment to see me and make sure I’m healing up okay, and then the guy took one look at my bruises called the nurse in and very politely asked Peter to leave the room.

 

“Mr Hale,” the doctor is shockingly facing the werewolf down, “I need to be able to examine Mr Stilinski in private, and if I have to, I will call the Sheriff’s Department and have them forcibly remove you from this office.”

 

Oh god this is going to go down hill very rapidly, moving closer to Peter I touch his arm and break his staring match with the doctor, “I’ll be okay Peter, he’s a doctor, he’s not going to do anything bad to me,” I try and make it look like Peter’s defending me, “You’ll be right outside, I’ll yell if I need you,” I rub his arm and go in for a hug, there’s something screwed up in the world if he’s the one now leaning into me for comfort.

 

“Fine,” he grunts and he’s furious, his body shaking under my touch, this does not bode well for me later on, “But if I find out that you got even slightly upset,” he threatens.

 

“I promise I’ll yell if I get upset even slightly,” I sooth him, “And when this is over we’ll go home, maybe I can sneak some of that cocoa you put in the cart,” I attempt to lighten the mood.

 

It doesn’t work and he’s frowning, “I’ll be right outside and if you need anything, anything at all,” I have to promise to call him a few more times and then he stalks to the door, and very gently closes it behind him, somehow that’s more deafening in my ears than him slamming it would be.

 

“Right,” I turn to the doc with a smile, “So what did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do it in front of Peter?”  I’m almost certain it’s because my bruises are those of an abuse victim, the nurse at my last school got upset over some of them.

 

“Mr Stilinski,” the doctor points to the examination table, “Please take off your t-shirt, I need to examine your torso and back, the nurse will be here the whole time, and if you want to tell me anything at all about how you got those particular injuries, we’re more than ready to help you build a case against the person who did that to you,” his eyes flick to the closed door and people in this town don’t seem to like Peter at all.

 

“Um,” I struggle to get my top off and then self consciously cover my chest with my arms, “If you talk to the cops in Sacramento you’ll find that the guy who gave me most of them is dead,” for a second I’m back there and I can’t believe how close I was to getting killed by a gang, “He was murdered,” I shiver and I know I’m hunching my shoulders defensively.

 

They glance at each other and seem to relax a little, the nurse is a older matronly woman who steps closer to me, “There was a hospital admission in your notes, we’ve only gotten a few of them through from your last doctors,” she seems nice, “Do you want to talk about it?” And I shake my head, because really?  Talking about my ex getting murdered and getting beaten up myself and then having to admit what Brad did to me too?  I’m happy not to say anything.  “Alright how about you lift your arm like this…” She demonstrates on herself and the examination gets underway.

 

I’m fine with the doctor occasionally poking me to check something on the top half of my body, but when he asks me to take my pants off I balk, “Nope, not without Peter in the room,” Not only am I uncomfortable with any guy touching me there, I’m also aware that Peter has shown jealous tendencies and he’ll be able to smell the doc’s been there.

 

“Mr Stilinski,” the doctor tries to reason with me but the stubborn Stilinski gene kicks in.

 

Interrupting him I tell him, “Doc, I get that you’re trying to find out who hurt me, but I can honestly say that since Peter came to visit me in the hospital in Sacramento he’s not laid a finger on me in anger, and he’s not done a thing to me except,” I point to the marks on my neck and my wrist, “And that’s it. If you want me to drop my pants there’s no way in hell you’re getting me to go along with it, not without Peter here with me.”

 

Jerking his head the doctor gets the nurse to fetch Peter who hurries into the room and over to me, “Stiles?  What is it?  What’s wrong?”

 

Melting into his hug, I really have gotten used to him touching me, I shake my head, “Nothings wrong, the doc wants to examine my legs and things, and I don’t want to do that without you here.”

 

“Is it necessary?” Peter asks the doctor who nods.

 

“Mr Hale, I need to make sure that Mr Stilinski,” he waves his hand in a way that Peter understands, then I’m being helped with getting my pants off and the humiliation of having my legs examined happens.

 

Peter’s there the whole time and hovers over me watching both the doctor and the nurse and I’m fairly certain that he’ll catch them if they do anything they shouldn’t do, I’m startled to realise that I’m learning to trust Peter with certain things.

 

Finally I’m allowed to get dressed again and Peter is invited to listen to the doctor give me a mini lecture of do’s and don’t’s, my medication from the hospital is okayed, not that I’ve needed it and we’re told to book another appointment, though the doc is now very happy with how I’m healing up and that there aren’t any new injuries.

 

Escaping from his office we queue to make the appointment, then freedom in the shape of the Hummer beckons.  Climbing in I whine, “Please tell me that was the last stop before home?”  And when have I started to think of it as home?

 

“Yes Stiles,” Peter pats my knee, “That was the last stop, though thinking about it, we should have gotten you some school stuff today, we’ll get it tomorrow and you can wander about the high street,” he starts the car and we ease forward.

 

“Cool,” I shift in the seat and carry on building a mental map of Wolf Creek in my head.

 

Going almost all the way to the other side of Wolf Creek, Peter turns off and we’re on a small road that curves beside the lake, and between us and the lake are various houses, “Ours is the last one,” he says and points, and I can’t really see from here.

 

And then we’re pulling into the front and it’s not what I thought it would be.

 

It’s smaller than I imagined, he’s been getting the best hotel rooms and he’s always given me the impression that he would be very high maintenance and picky with material things.  This house is a cross between an A frame and a normal roof, I know there must be a room on the second floor because there’s a window, perhaps that’s where our bedroom is?

 

The outside of the house has a wooden facia, painted red, the roof shingles have a red tint to them, and the window frames are red too.  Again with the red theme.  To the left of the house I can see the start of decking, luckily in dark brown.  There’s no garden as such, it’s grass, and beyond the house I can see the glistening signs of water from the lake.

 

Beside me Peter fidgets and he’s nervous again, “I hope that you like it,” he’s sniffing softly probably trying to work out how I’m feeling, but since I don’t know I give him a smile and clamber out of the Hummer.

 

Opening up the front door of his house he says, “Go explore Stiles, I’ll bring everything in and put it all away,” he shoos me with a hand and I step into my new home.


	38. Chapter 38

Prepared for red, I’m pleasantly surprised when the open plan kitchen, dinning room and living room is instead dark wood with touches of green.  It’s soothing.  To my right is a wall with three doors in it, all of them closed.  To my left is the kitchen, very modern, with numerous gadgets placed strategically around the counter.

 

There’s a glass door leading from the kitchen out to the decking, I’m sure we can probably eat breakfast out there in summer, or dinner, or something.

 

A lone long dinning room table with matching dark wooden chairs acts like a barrier between the kitchen and the living room.

 

The living room is the largest area at the far end of the house and a giant plasma TV sits on the wall, directly opposite is an obscenely large green and cream sofa.

 

Window doors straight ahead of me lead out to more decking and there are some truly breathtaking views of the lake too.  Heavy green curtains hang down and I suppose they must be for privacy and warmth.  The walls are all dark wood, with green wall-lights, the floor is the same dark woods with green running carpets.

 

The overall effect is open, light, and cosy. 

 

Homely.

 

Curious I go to the door farthest from me and peek around it, to a pale cream bedroom, to the left is another big window door leading out to more decking and it looks out over the lake.  The bed is huge, and on either side are dark wood bedside cabinets.  There’s one solitary chair and that’s all the furniture in the room, the rest is made up of built in wardrobes and the TV hangs on the wall.

 

A door catches my eye and I wander over to see what could be behind that, apparently a very nice cream and pale blue bathroom, there’s the requisite toilet, a big shower stall, big enough for four people, the sink, and a small square bath with weird jets in it.

 

Backing out I go to the main room and then try the middle door, it’s a small toilet, in green.

 

Peter’s carrying in our shopping and he’s putting things away while pointedly not looking at me, leaving me free to go to the last door, the one nearest the front of the house.

 

Inside is a study with two big executive chairs, and Peter was right they look even more awesome than the ones in the Willows.  A staircase leads upwards and the placement of the stairs puts it so that the mini toilet is set into the highest part of the stairs meaning no space is wasted. There’s even a small cupboard under there too.

 

Climbing the dark wood stairs, with little green carpet bits in the middle of each step, takes me up to the room I thought would have been our bedroom.  It’s open plan again, and one side of the room is taken up with exercise equipment, while the other is full of bookshelves, empty bookshelves.  No wait, one of the many sets of shelves is full and I pad over to see that it holds the classical books like Shakespeare.

 

A couple of comfy reclining chairs are under lights and I guess that’s for us to do reading together, which is good because I like reading.  Remembering the big eclectic bookshop I wonder at how many books we could get up here and my fingers itch to go surf the net and start writing out a wish list.

 

Distracting myself I go and peruse the exercise equipment, the stuff appears to be top of the range, there’s a running machine, weight lifting things, what I think is a rowing machine, and oh my god, yes, it’s one of those vibrating plate things.  You just stand there and it wobbles you to health, something to do with you having to work at standing there or something, but it’s fun to stand on and is preferable to running suicides.

 

Two big windows dominate the room, one at either end.  The one I saw from the car is just a window, with green curtains again.  The other looks out over the lake and has a small balcony with two seats and a tiny table.  Now that would be seriously cool to sit out there during summer and read while sipping drinks.

 

From here I can see that the decking extends out at the back and there are steps down to more grass that leads to the shore of the lake, and there’s a short wooden jetty, bridge, pier thing sticking out into the water.  My brain goes click and I’m already planning to race down the jetty and throw myself into the water when it’s warmer.

 

Oh my god, I’ve just realised I have the equivalent of my own swimming pool in my back yard, one big enough I can learn to sail on, or maybe they do diving, or… There are so many possibilities running through my head right now.

 

Bouncing down the stairs I’m getting hungry, I walk through the office but I’m drawn back to the chairs.  I have to try them out and sit down into blissful cushioning that I can spin in a circle.  “Awesome,” I mutter and grin to myself, maybe this whole thing with Peter is going to be okay.  Maybe he’ll be so gentle with me once a week it won’t be a chore that I’ll hate.

 

Dream dad and dream Derek are leaning against the stairs watching me with a matching set of frowns.  Seriously I can’t believe my subconscious is hassling me over being happy with my new home.  No, they’re actually frowning at the small cupboard under the stairs.

 

Unable to resist I go over and bend down so I can stoop and be nosey.  It’s dark in there and I pull a cord dangling down to see me staring back.  Only it’s not a mirror, it’s a blown up picture of my face, and I’m smiling, but I don’t ever remember that photo being taken.

 

The inside of the cupboard is nice and neat and tidy, everything has it’s place, even the small toy model of my jeep, the toy is the exact same colour as my jeep.  On top of one pile of paper is a copy of my birth certificate.  Another pile is made up of newspaper articles and the top one is of me and my dad with him holding me in his arms, it was when dad won an award for being most likeable cop, or that was how mom explained it to me.

 

Swallowing I keep looking and I think there are copies of my school report cards, how the hell did he get a hold of those?  More photos of me, some pinned to the walls, some in neat piles, of all ages.  A few of the more recent ones have me with Scott and Allison, though her face is scratched out and there are big crosses over Scott’s face.  There are some with me and Jackson, Danny, the three Betas, even with Derek and lots of them with my dad, those are intact and from the angles I’d have to say they were taken with a telescopic lens.  There are four photos of just me and Lydia and she’s coloured in with red, I’m not sure what that signifies but I’m fairly sure I don’t want to know.

 

Slipping from my fingers, the photos I was riffling through, fall to the floor and dream dad and dream Derek are trying to tell me something but my heart is thundering in my chest and my breath is harsh in my ears.  Oh mother of god, I’ve seen this on TV, I’ve skimmed some of dad’s training manuals on this subject but I’ve never seen it for myself.  Even my over the top crush on Lydia was never this bad, this intense, this crazy.

 

Everything that Peter said about coming to get me that he was going to coax me to him, that he was building a territory for us was true, completely true.  Holy shit.  He’s been stalking me, kind of, at the very least he’s been obsessing over me.  I’ve gone along with what he’s told me not understanding the sheer level of his crazy up until now.

 

Suddenly both dream dad and dream Derek pop out of view and that itch between my shoulder blades kicks up.

 

Childishly I want to close my eyes and pretend he’s not there, that if I wish hard enough all the bad things will go away.  But life doesn’t happen like that and Brad taught me to look so I can gauge how bad it’s going to be and ready myself for the pain.

 

Slowly I look up and Peter’s standing in the doorway that calm genteel expression firmly fixed on his face, “You really shouldn’t poke about Stiles, you might find things that upset you,” he’s so relaxed and not upset that it makes it worse, “Oh Stiles, you made a mess of the photos didn’t you,” it’s not a question, it’s a statement, he probably heard them hitting the ground

 

“Sorry,” my voice cracks, “I wasn’t expecting…” I wave a hand at the cupboard and I can’t fathom why he’s fixated on me, why he’s gone to the lengths he has just to get me here unless it’s a type of revenge against me for helping to kill him.

 

He sighs and stalks towards me, I’m frozen in place I can’t move a muscle as he gets closer and closer.


	39. Chapter 39

Kneeling down next to me Peter’s studying me and he tilts his head to one side listening, “You’re afraid,” he sniffs the air, “Hmm, make that terrified. Why?”

 

I’ve just found his crazy cupboard of stalker craziness paying homage to me in his own crazy way and he’s asking me why I’m terrified of him?  He is seriously crazy to have asked me that, wait, he is certifiably crazy, and I have to stop using the word crazy even if it is apt.

 

“Um…” Oh god, don’t let me turn into Scott now of all times, “I um… Seriously you have a crazy cupboard filled with me?” Aw crap I did not just say that.

 

Peter’s eyes swivel to the now messy cupboard and back to me, “Yes, I suppose you would think it was a crazy cupboard, after all I am insane, and the cupboard is filled with you.”

 

Not really an answer.

 

“Do you like it?” He asks and what the actual fuck?

 

“You’re asking me if I like your crazy stalker cupboard full of me?” I’m incredulous because seriously?

 

“Yes,” he smiles softly, “At first I was obsessed with revenge,” his eyes start to glow and his canines lengthen, “But that wasn’t my finest hour,” he frowns, “Laura died at my hands, I nearly killed Derek on a number of occasions, I turned Scott who’s an idiot, I have to say I’m proud of Lydia though,” he smiles like he’s happy, “She unwittingly lead me to you, you who defied me over her body, you who argued with me while in the close confines of a car, you who dared to turn down the bite when I offered it and in the most intimate of places,” unconsciously I rub my right wrist and he licks his lips hungrily as he watches me.

 

“I’d not really noticed you up until that point, you who taunted me when you trapped me in the school, you who crashed your beloved jeep into my car when I was distracted by Scott’s, admittedly gorgeous, mom.  Revenge only brought about Kate’s far too quick and unsatisfying death, and my own,” he’s frowning again, “So when I came back from the dead I began making plans for us, but they were stupid plans and I thought I’d have to kill Derek to get to you.”

 

Oh my god, inwardly I flail and wonder how the hell I get myself into these messes but he’s smiling and pushing into my personal space, “It took being run off by Derek for me to finish snapping to my senses, I needed you more than I needed revenge, or power, I needed you to give me focus and I know you understand about focusing and how hard it is.  I need you in my life with me, and only me, with no distractions for either of us, focusing on you has given me purpose, trying to stay within the narrow confines of your morals challenges me, making you happy is a goal that makes me very happy, your smile is amazing, your laugh and your scent they’re intoxicating.”

 

Creepy, very creepy, if a bit flattering at the end.

 

“Um…” I whisper and he’s still pushing into my space so I fall on my ass and then he’s hovering over me as I’m sprawled on the floor helplessly.  Slowly he lowers himself down until he’s laying on top of me taking some of his weight on his arms.

 

“Stiles,” he murmurs, “So utterly human, fragile, imperfectly perfect in everyway.  I’ve dreamed of you for so long, and yet here you are, finally, and you are more than I could have imagined.  I’ve only really caught glimpses of the open side of you with Scott in the past, how could he be so blind as to throw you away for that Argent bitch? How could he give up your natural loyalty?  Your courage?” I’m not feeling that courageous right now.

 

“That scheming little Raven brain of yours,” he whispers into my ear and nuzzles my bruised neck, “I was upset at you talking to the home wrecking reception bitch at the hotel in Salt Lake City but you got her to change from suspicious to happy for us, your eyes never wandered to her ample charms once, you showed me off to her,” he wiggles on me and manoeuvres so that he pushes both of his knees between mine spreading my legs in the process, I try not to panic too much, I knew this was coming at some point, it was inevitable, and we’ve already talked about it.  “And then you found our rings,” he sounds awed, “You even made sure to propose to me, you posed for photos with me, and I’m going to add them to the cupboard,” Oh my god our engagement photos are going in the crazy cupboard.

 

“You’re willing to give up your last name for me, you want people to see us on Facebook, you’re not ashamed of us, you’re embracing our lives together,” he kisses up my jaw, “You want to go walking with me, to run beside me as my mate in the forest. Oh my beautiful Raven you hop about trying to run but when you learn to fly you are going to be beyond magnificent,” he’s kissing over my face and there is something really hard in his pants digging into the inside of my thigh, right near my groin.

 

“You’re mine now,” he looks down at me predatory and dark, “And I won’t willingly give you up Stiles, you might have agreed to come with me in some misguided attempt at protecting your old family and friends.  You might have thought that putting all that distance between them and us would keep me from them, but you never thought that the same distance would keep them from you and stop them from pulling you away from me.”

 

Burying his face back into my neck he moans and bucks his hips driving his swollen dick against me, “Stiles, please, I’ve been so good and kept my promise to you, I’ve waited for you,” he bucks again, “Say yes, let me claim you properly, sink into your body, fill you with my seed,” his moan this time is almost broken, “I’ll be so gentle with you, so careful, you mean too much to me for me to waste you for a moment of pleasure, not when I can have you every week.”

 

Yep creepy, but I made a deal with him and I’d rather get this part out of the way now so I can heal up and rest afterwards and it gives me illusion of consent over this.

 

“Okay,” I nod and do my best impression of not being terrified.

 

Lifting his head up he grins, “Oh you lovely delightful boy, so giving, so loving, so brave,” he leans down and kisses me softly, I’m too scared to kiss him back.  “Don’t worry,” he coos at me, “Rest, I’ll go and change the sheets on the bed, then we can consummate our relationship.”

 

I barely have time to blink and he’s gone, only the crazy cupboard lets me know I haven’t imagined that.  Oh god, it’s happening, I’m really here and this is happening.

 

Clambering to my feet I stagger to the doorframe and cling to it as I stare out over the main room.  A room littered with my dream family, friends and pack.  Even dream Jackson has appeared which is really rare.

 

They’re the main reason I’m agreeing to this, it’s the one way I can protect them, because if Peter’s crazy cupboard is to be believed he’d have come after me, and my brain skitters away from the methods he might have used to ‘persuade’ me to go with him and I dread to think what he would have done to dad to make me listen to his crazy thing for me.  Perhaps it’s better that I ran away, perhaps having Brad do those things will make what’s about to happen easier for me.

 

Shaking I wobble to the sofa and collapse onto it.

 

Dream Allison and Scott are there in seconds touching me and muttering nice things.  Dream Derek and dad are pissed they’re not real and can’t defend me, which isn’t the point, for once I can protect and defend them, the real them.  Isaac is there offering support, while Erika and Boyd cling to each other.  Jackson is the biggest surprise, he wants to kick Peter’s ass before the psycho can touch my ass, which is sweet of him.  Even Lydia isn’t so wrapped up in herself that she’s being here for me.  When dream Melissa turns up she hugs my dad and I wish they could do that for real, I wish my dad could find someone as awesome as her instead of the gold digging tramp he’s probably married to by now.

 

My subconscious is on my side for once and they calm me down as I wait for Peter to call me.  Suddenly they vanish and I turn to see Peter at the doorway to the bedroom, “Are you ready?” He asks clearly eager for this.

 

“No,” I tell him the truth and I get to my feet anyway, wrapping my arms around me I take the smallest steps I can but all too soon I’m standing in front of him and he reaches out to take my hands in his.

 

“Your hands are cold,” he says and cradles them, tugging me into the bedroom he closes the door behind me, “It’s going to be okay Stiles,” he reassures me and pushes me back into the door, crowding into me he kisses me softly, “Shh,” he croons at me and I feel something wet slide down my face, it’s followed by others and I think I’m crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Chapter 40 - It will be non-con...


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning – non con in this chapter.

“Don’t cry,” his voice is gentle, “I promise I’ll be gentle, I promise to stop if I physically hurt you,” his fingers wipe at my face and I really do try to stop, other than a few sobs I do stop and I don’t fight as he tugs me into the middle of the room.

 

He closes the curtains and turns the lights on low, it should be slightly romantic, I can see he’s making an effort and I remember all the times he’s been good to me and grit my teeth, damn it I made a deal I’m going to honour it.  And I’ve survived Brad so I can survive this.

 

Hands on my hips grab my t-shirt and he divests me of that and my over shirt in one smooth move.  Unzipping my jeans he gets them and my trucks off and down where I step out of the material, my socks swiftly following.  Naked and vulnerable I force my hands down to my side and I don’t cover my body.  The sounds of more cloth and a zip are loud in the silence of the room.

 

“How do you do it?” Peter’s saying his voice awed and I have to peek at him, he’s staring at my back, “How can you be so utterly masculine, so lean and toned, so strong and yet be so alluring and attractive?”

 

If he weren’t clearly crazy that would be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever paid me about my body, it’s different from the way Brad stared at me, he only wanted something to break and shatter, Oren was only interested in a warm body, but Peter’s acting like I’m special.

 

Shrugging I brush it off with, “I don’t think I am.”

 

“Oh you are,” he breathes into the skin on my back and when the fuck did he get so close?  “So very manly,” fingers run over my shoulders and I tense, “Where did you get these scars? I’ve wanted to ask you since that night you fell asleep after the sightseeing,” And he traces some of the scars, the long thin lines that mar my flesh.

 

“Brad,” I croak out, I forget they’re there most of the time, they’re on my back so I can’t see them, “He… He um… He used his belt on my back, to teach me obedience,” my hands clench into fists

 

A cross between a snarl and a snort comes from Peter, “Stupid Omega, such a bounty he had and he abused it,” warm wet pressure and I make myself stand there as Peter licks my back, it’s not slimy but it’s not pleasant either.  He’s crooning softly and murmuring words into my back, I don’t catch most of them but they seem to be sweet nothings about bravery and courage, I think they’re about me.

 

When he’s finished licking me he slides around my front and his very prominently erect dick slicks over my hip and juts into my gut, he doesn’t thrust it into me he goes for a hug and coaxes me into hugging him back, it’s kinda awkward but he is being gentle, by now Brad would have been using his fists on my body and Oren would have been two fingers deep in me.

 

Peter’s sweet as he tugs me to the bed and I’m going to go up on all fours so he can do the stretching thing, but his hand on my hip stops me and I let him flip me around so I’m laying on my back, “This way, I want you this way.”

 

Going to the other side of the bed he climbs on with that innate grace of a werewolf and he snags the new tube of lube on the way.  Lying down next to me he gets me to shift an arm so he can snuggle in resting his head on my shoulder and I open my legs so he can get to the right area he wants.

 

Covering his fingers with the slippery lube he reaches down and a finger nudges at me.  I do my utmost to not clench but he’s not pushing in, in fact he’s circling me then nudging, then circling, it’s incredibly slow and I grip the bed sheets as I stare at the ceiling.  I can’t even zone out like I normally do, he’s kissing my shoulder and when his finger broaches me it burns the tiniest amount, far less than it ever did even with Derek.

 

Oh dear god Peter really has looked into this gay sex thing.

 

Speared on his finger I wait for him to thrust but he waits and my muscles get used to the intrusion, when I’m relaxed he asks if he can move his finger and I nod, and it really doesn’t hurt.

 

Restlessly I shift around a bit and draw the leg furthest from him up, he pauses so I can ease into the new position and then he carries on.  He’s licking and mouthing at my shoulder, which is going to have one hell of a love bite on it.  A second finger is slid inside as easily as the last, he waits to scissor me, each movement precise and this is one of the best rounds of stretches I’ve ever had.  Brad and Oren did the minimum, while Derek and I were too impatient to wait, and I liked the burn with him, it was part of the whole experience.

 

Soon I’m ready for the third finger too and after that's done Peter’s moaning into my shoulder, “God Stiles, if you could only feel what I’m feeling right now,” and I wish I could because I’m feeling a bit cold and shivery, and very weirded out by this.

 

“Um, I should be stretched enough if you want to…” I tell him and he’s eyes are blown wide, red, and there’s a hint of fangs in his mouth.

 

“Thank you,” he grunts out and removes his fingers from me, the relief at being empty is short lived as I get to see him slick his cock up.  It’s not as big as Oren’s, but bigger than Brad’s and Derek’s.  Long and fat, it’s weeping pre-cum almost continuously.  He makes me get a pillow to put under my hips and touching my knees he opens my legs further.  I have to tilt my hips for him and I can’t believe I’m participating in this.

 

A nudge at my prepared ass is the only warning I get as he begins to push himself into me, it burns but it’s not that bad, I’m tighter than I normally am as it’s been a while since the last time I was used for sex.

 

He keeps going with a slow steady pace and bottoms out inside of me.  Wiggling he grasps my right leg hooking it over his left shoulder with apparent practiced ease.  My left leg is made to wrap around his hip and he balances precariously, then leans forward and uses his right arm for leverage.

 

Pulling out of me halfway he thrusts inside just as slowly as the first time, his eyes are closed and he’s gritting his teeth.  “Stiles,” he moans and starts up a very slow tempo of thrusts, “Won’t last,” he hisses and I’m all for him cumming right this second.

 

“You can go faster,” I encourage him, he’s done such a good job of prepping me that nothing’s rubbing inside and he’s angled his hips so it doesn’t really hurt at all, it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it, but there’s no pain.

 

Moaning softly he does speed up and deepens his thrusts, the headboard doesn’t bang on the wall, proof of his turtle pace.  And he was right, this isn’t so bad, though I’m glad I only have to do this once a week and he’s said we can try the shower to see if that’s easier on me.

 

Losing myself I zone a bit and I’m sitting on a swing set in the park, dad’s near by with Scott’s mom, while Scott and I try to see who can get the highest, who can touch the sky.  We laugh and laugh, his asthma making him wheeze sometimes and the voices of our parents in the distance…

 

“Stiles,” Peter’s voice is destroyed and cracking, it cuts across my daydream, he’s so close, “Stiles,” he pants and his hips are rutting into me faster, “STILES!”

 

Clenching my ass I give him more friction and he wasn’t expecting that, it rips his orgasm from him, the hot wet spurts filling me as he literally howls his release, his lower jaw elongates and the sheer volume of the roar shakes my body from the bass rumbling through me.

 

“Stiles,” he whimpers brokenly at the end and collapses on top of me.

 

His body is trembling and covered in sweat, he’s breathing in sharp pants, and his face is buried back in the junction of my neck.  It’s up to me to hold him like I’m cuddling him and keep my legs open while he shrinks inside and plugs the gunk in there.

 

Petting him I run my fingers through his sweat-streaked hair and hope he comes to soon so I can move and hopefully have a shower. I really want to wash off the worst of his semen before it dries around my ass, that’s disgusting when it does that.

 

I determinedly ignore the nausea rolling in my stomach and the fine tremors in my body, it wasn’t as bad as Brad was, I can survive this with him, he will be gentle with me and maybe in time I can learn to enjoy the kisses and the touches outside of the bedroom and bring them here to enjoy sex with him too, maybe, or maybe pigs will fly first.

 

My cheeks are wet again and I hold the sobs at bay because I know I’m lucky to have Peter in my life, my real pack, and my family are safe, I won’t be mistreated here, he’s proved that.  Things could be worse and I cling to him as sobs tear through my body and I’m not even sure why I’m crying but he’s soon holding me back and soothing me lovingly. 

 

Somehow that makes me feel worse.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning – after effects of non-con.

Running out of tears I lay there and shake under him, he’s casually stroking my shoulder and down my arm and back again, “Shh, I’m here, you’re safe, I’ll keep you safe, it’s okay,” he murmurs into my ear over and over.

 

I’m feeling cold and getting colder even though he’s like a furnace against my body, I’m trembling, I’m nauseous and emotionally numb, my brain isn’t working on all cylinders and I’m vaguely aware that I’m in shock. 

 

People have told me I don’t have an ounce of self-preservation but they must be wrong as I twist under Peter and wrap him up in a hug.  I have to convince him I’m not trying to escape from him when I go to the bathroom for a shower, I have to make him believe I’m invested in the ‘Relationship’.

 

Threading my fingers through his hair I pet him and I make myself kiss his shoulder, he grunts a pleased sound at me and nuzzles into the tender and sore marks on my neck.

 

After my disastrous attempt at the Willows to use the toilet on my own I know I’m going to have to drag him into the shower with me, thankfully I already know it’s more than big enough for the two of us.  “Peter,” I whisper his name.

 

“Hmm, yes Stiles,” he nibbles my earlobe.

 

“Peter, please may I have a shower, please,” oh god I didn’t mean to come across quite so pathetically weak.

 

He pauses and pulls back to stare down at me, “Do you really need one right now?” He’s frowning and I really want that shower.

 

Biting my lip I nod very slowly and wait for him to reject the request, he’s thinking it over and I blurt, “Please Peter, please can we take a shower.”

 

“We?  You want me there too?” Well no, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to insist and it would be easier to clean myself up with his help so I nod again.  His face softens, “Okay,” he very gently pulls out of my body and climbs off the bed.  Holding out his hand he helps me sit up and takes some of my weight so that I can stand.

 

Step by step we edge closer to the bathroom and then I nearly whimper from joy when we get into the shower and he turns it on.  It’s electric so the water comes out warm and quickly goes to hot.  I’m stuck clinging to him as my legs are too wobbly to do anything right now, “Thank you,” I babble at him and he cradles me gently beneath the stream of water.

 

It’s the probably the most awkward and slowest shower ever, but he does clean me up and he hums while he does it.  I manage not to flinch when his fingers invade my ass again and the relief when the gunk comes out and gets washed away is indescribable.  His hands are loving on my skin, he finds the tension in my shoulders and teases it out, my scalp is scrubbed and his nails scratch affectionately.  No part of me is left unwashed or untended.

 

Peter hurries through his own shower and then I’m patted dry like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he’s too rough, and I’m lead back to the bed where he rolls me onto my side and tucks me in, “I’ll get you some food,” he’s stroking my cheek and I nod, I’m not hungry but food will help.

 

Still numb, I float not really thinking or feeling anything, and I startle when he touches my cheek again, I thought he said he was getting food and then I smell the tomato soup.  Oh, how much time did I just lose?

 

“Here,” and then I’m subjected to being spoon fed the soup, that snaps me out of what ever state I’m in, because I’m old enough to feed myself.  Except that Peter’s still shamelessly naked and appears to be enjoying feeding me, so I swipe a cracker to munch on between spoonfuls of soup.

 

“Good,” he puts the spoon in the bowl and leans forward to kiss my forehead, “Let me fill the bowl with water so it can soak and I’ll be right back,” and he vanishes out of the bedroom.

 

Taking the opportunity I wiggle on the bed and my ass is sore but not as much as it used to be with Oren, Peter was much gentler than anyone’s ever been with me.  Other than the new love bites on my shoulder and possible shadows of bruises on my hips he’s not physically injured me at all.

 

Huffing out a sigh I try and get comfortable and I can hear running water from what must be the kitchen sink.  And then Peter reappears in the doorway and pads over to his side of the bed.  Automatically I roll back so he can be a long line of heat at my back and that deceptively strong arm slides around me holding me in place.

 

I start fidgeting almost immediately and Peter points to my bedside cabinet, “Do you want to watch some TV? I can link it to the computer so you can download anything you want.”

 

Nodding pathetically at him I only have to wait a few minutes and then we’re downloading Green Lantern, I’ve seen the film a few times but it’s easy to watch, nothing too bad happens, and I can relax as Peter holds me tightly to him.

 

By the end of the film he’s chased away the last lingering chill and I’m dozing on and off beside him, his rhythmic breathing is very calming.  Who knew that all I needed to do to get over my insomnia earlier in my life was to sneak into his hospital room when he was comatose and sleep beside him.  Yeah I can’t see that one going down too well.

 

“What do you want to watch now?” He asks me.

 

“What did you want to watch?” I turn it around on him, “You’ll get bored only watching things I want to see.”

 

“Hmm, I don’t think you’d appreciate my viewing choices,” he kisses my shoulder, “I’ve found the slasher horror genre very arousing, the gorier and bloodier the better.”

 

Freezing next to him I swallow nervously, “Yeah... Not my kind of thing anymore,” not since I’ve been forced to live it, I shiver and Peter tucks the sheets more securely around me.

 

“I didn’t think it would be,” he’s amused, “How about a nice little animated movie?  Something sweet and syrupy?  I’ll even make you curly fries tonight for dinner,” he tempts me.

 

“Um, there’s a good series called Young Justice,” I tell him, “It has a bit of Batman in it,” and he loads that for me, wow, no arguments.  The first episode starts and I lose myself in the storyline though I do think they should be sidekicks for a bit longer now, just because you have the skills doesn’t mean you’re ready for the reality but this is a superhero world so the good guys always win, it’s not like real life.

 

Other than a bit of nuzzling into my neck he’s a perfect gentleman, occasionally he comments on the series but he seems content to watch it and some of the jokes make him laugh.  My mind skitters away from the fact the finds gory horror movies arousing, now is not the time to freak myself out further, hopefully he won’t decide to dissect me in the night and he’s mentioned that he prefers to have me once a week rather than a brief intense moment of pleasure that kills me.

 

Stiffening beside me he half sits up and cocks his head listening before he growls, “Damn, we have visitors.”

 

“Visitors?” Oh god is it a neighbouring pack?

 

Petting me he tells me, “Some local idiots, they keep coming around and wanting to talk to me,” he rolls his eyes, “Some of the women brought casseroles,” and that makes me blink because it’s just small town hospitality kicking in, something normal and harmless. I could use normal and harmless.

 

“Okay,” I sit up, “Shall we go greet them?”

 

Scowling he gets up and stretches, my eyes easily stay on his face, I have zero interest looking elsewhere, “Fine,” he pouts and his resemblance to Derek is uncanny for a few seconds.

 

He pulls on his jeans and doesn’t bother buttoning them up and then he leaves his shirt open showing off his abs, he doesn’t even fix his hair which is a mess, he goes to greet them first as they are currently leaning impatiently on our doorbell.

 

Hurriedly I pull on my underwear and jeans.  As he’d whipped my t-shirt and over shirt off in one go they’re a tangled jumble I have to fight with.  Putting on my socks I stop the computer and power it down and then setting my shoulders and faking a smile I go out to greet my new neighbours and fellow townsfolk.


	42. Chapter 42

Peter’s standing at the front door and he’s not even opened it properly, it isn’t until I pass the study and see the crazy cupboard is still ajar that I entertain the possibility that he might just slaughter any guests we have instead of being the friendly charming wolf that he can fake so well.

 

Crap.

 

Guess we’ll have to get rid of the guests and feign jet lag or something.

 

Scuffing my feet so he’ll hear me, I amble up to him, slip an arm around him and peek over his shoulder to the three people on our doorstep.  One of them is male and is wearing a priestly dog collar, one is a very pretty woman with god awful taste in shapeless dresses, the dress is a yellow that even I know doesn’t suit her, and behind them is a teen with the same brown hair of the woman and the same hazel eyes, I’m going with they’re related.  The teen is in seriously tight jeans that are probably sprayed on, and a t-shirt that’s shockingly low and hides nothing of her model perfect body, that long brown hair styled just so to frame her face and I’m trying to fight the stereotype of the priest’s daughter rebelling and being slutty but when she eyes me up and winks as she blows me a kiss the stereotype wins out.

 

Yeah, I think Peter could deal with the priest and the wife in our house but the daughter is so not coming in to flirt, if he pitched a fit in the Willows because of Marianne and Greg, and I’ve recently found out about his jealously of the receptionist Angela, then he’ll have this girl’s intestines decorating the ceiling before she can finish coming on to either one of us.

 

Though I’m a bit lost at the flirting, I must be missing her target and caught the flirt meant for Peter, no wonder he doesn’t want people coming into his house if this is the way the women have all acted towards him.

 

“Hi,” I pretend to be happy to see people and move closer to Peter staking my claim to him, I ignore the fact that he raped me only a few hours or so ago, it’s easier to forget that it happened and remember him as the nicer person I’ve been hanging out with recently.

 

If anything the priest’s face dims, “So Deputy Smalltrees was right, you have entered into a sinful relationship Mr Hale,” okay wasn’t expecting that and I look at Peter in confusion.

 

“It’s not sinful,” Peter grinds out between gritted teeth, “We’re engaged to be married and Stiles is of a legal age.”

 

The man sniffs and looks down his nose at Peter, but his wife timidly smiles and says, “Congratulations?” That earns her a glare from her husband and she wilts.

 

Damn it, I might be locked in a relationship with a psycho wolf but that doesn’t mean she should be locked in a marriage with a judgmental ass, so I smile at her and waggle my left hand to show off my engagement ring, “Thanks,” I chirp at her and then hold my right hand out, “I’m Stiles by the way.”

 

“Um,” she chews her lip and then shakes my hand limply, “Larissa,” blinking she points to the man, “This is my husband Mortimer and our daughter Faith.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” I lie as I beam at them and I put my arm around Peter again, “And I’m sure you already know Peter,” he glances at me and then nods to them in greeting.

 

“Yes,” Larissa says, “Um…”

 

The conversation nosedives and turns so awkward I’m surprised there aren’t turtles popping into view, “So um…” And for once I’m at a loss of what to say, my mind is still not quite all there and I shiver slightly.

 

“You’re cold,” Peter’s shifting and wrapping me more fully in his arms, a hand rubbing my back gently.

 

The three visitors are gaping at him and I will get to the bottom of that reaction at some point, “I’m fine,” I lie, “Guess I was a bit too warm and comfortable in bed just now.”

 

A gasp and a giggle from Faith and I realise what I’ve just said, Mortimer is stunned while Larissa is flushing bright red as I follow suit and she’s babbling, “Oh, oh, we didn’t mean to interrupt, and Gladys at the Store said you’d bought…” I knew the woman on the checkout was a gossip, “Um,” she backs away dragging Mortimer with her, “We’ll leave you to settle in,” she waves and gives a strained smile, “Nice meeting you Stiles.”

 

And then they beat a hasty retreat to an SUV and pile in leaving us in silence, though I could see Faith was already on her cell phone.  Crap, that didn’t go too well.

 

Peter closes the door and locks it, and then he starts to laugh delightedly and pulls me in for a deeper hug, “Oh Stiles, Stiles, my wonderful Stiles, their faces, their scents, and now they will tell everyone that you are mine and I am yours.”

 

I get a kiss on the cheek and he leads me back to bed.  This time I get to strip myself down and to keep my trunks on and we go back to watching cartoons.  He tucks me against him under the covers and I thaw back out in the warmth pouring off of him.

 

Losing myself in the cartoons part of me analyses the facts that no one here seems to like Peter, they’re either surprised by him being gay or nice, I can’t tell which yet, but I will find out and I’m going to have to do damage control somehow and integrate us into this town.

 

Kissing my shoulder Peter murmurs, “Wait here, I’ll get you dinner,” and then he walks out of the bedroom still stark naked, and objectively he has an amazing ass, great shoulders and a very nice lean back.

 

Sneaking out to pee, I snuggle back under the covers and I know this is not normal behaviour for me, my ADHD should be forcing me to get up and about but I feel languid and its like my mind has hung up a sign saying off on vacation.  It’s linked to Peter and earlier, I’m not coping with what we did but I’m determined to learn how to cope because this is going to keep happening to me, he might try the shower thing and it might not work out for him, so we’ll be back to this and I have to be ready.

 

Peter pads into the bedroom carrying a tray and I can smell the fries from here, he’s spoiling me again.  Sitting up I wince at the ache in my butt and let him settle the tray on the bed between us.  He has some cold meat salad thing, which I steal come tomatoes from and he pinches some of my fries, ordinarily I don’t share but he’s my future husband so I’ll share, but only with him.

 

Finally my natural behaviour starts to reassert itself and I ask, “Hey can we go for a walk after dinner? Nothing to much,” my ass is sore, “I think I need some fresh air and I’d like to see your new forest.”

 

“Are you sure you’re ready for a walk yet?” He asks concerned.

 

“Yeah, I can’t stay here much longer without fidgeting, I should sleep like a baby after the walk,” and I grin when he nods.  Hopping out of bed I pull my clothes on and stretch my lower regions out.

 

He shows me where he’s put our shoes, and then he bundles me up in one of his warmer coats and we go for a walk.  Our house is right on the end of this little street and no one else is around this late in the day.  We cross our little street and walk through a few straggly trees to reach the main road, there’s no traffic and we cross into the main forest.

 

Unerringly Peter leads me to a game trail which we follow, I’m mostly fine now but he helps me with some of the more awkward areas or tree falls, and I can smell the trees and listen to them rustle around us.  The forest is a weird mixture of evergreens and deciduous, the floor is littered with the big leaves and winter is fast approaching.  I’ve heard of how this area has amazing fall colours from the trees but it’s even more amazing in person though the fading light is making it more difficult to see.

 

All the time we’re out here Peter sticks to my side and I cling to his hand, as usual the forest works it’s magic on me and sucks in the worry and anxiety so that as we come to the main road and cross over to our house I’m smiling and humming and Peter has that small little smile playing on his face.

 

Sweeping into the house I kick off my shoes and put them up away along with Peter’s and when I see the crazy cupboard is open I turn to him and wince, “I’m really sorry I messed up your cupboard.”

 

“Stiles,” he moves closer, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again, I had everything perfectly in place,” he leans forward slowly and pecks my cheek, “Do you want to go to bed now?”

 

“Um, no, I’m good for a few more hours, hey do you want to start tidying up the cupboard? I can make cocoa for us and I can print off any photos you want for the cupboard,” and I’m fairly certain that all those police manuals and therapist manuals state you aren’t supposed to encourage someone in their psychosis and I’m aware that he’ll turn on me one day and kill me, but hopefully there will be signs, mostly in the crazy cupboard, as long as it stays nice inside with him wanting us to be together I’ll be safe.

 

“I’d like that,” he agrees and I go off to raid the kitchen for cocoa and I bring him some biscuits too.

 

Booting up his macbook and the I-Pad and I-Phones I finish moving picture files around, I print a few of him off and he’s confused when I hand them to him, “Peter, dude, we’re engaged, you have to be in the cupboard too, with me,” that soft smile appears and I leave him to play and rearrange the piles of things in there while I work on uploading the Cheyenne pictures to Facebook and putting names to files.

 

I never realised living with a psycho wolf could be so homely and soothing. When I’ve caught up with our road trip stuff he’s nearly done with the cupboard and then I yawn, I’m beat from the day even though I’ve not done much.

 

Putting the mugs I used for our cocoa into soak in the kitchen sink I go to our bedroom and it’s surprisingly easy to strip down and slip into bed with him, to have him curl up at my back and hold me.

 

“Peter?” I mumble in the light of the bedside lamp.

 

“Yes Stiles,” he brushes a kiss over my shoulder and that’s soothing too.

 

“Thank you,” I tell him.

 

“For what?” He cuddles in closer.

 

“Everything, just…” I sigh and wiggle into him, it’s too complicated to explain considering what he is and I think he’s Stockholming me, “Just thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he reaches out and turns the light out, “And thank you Stiles, for giving me this chance, I promise I’ll make you as happy as I can.”

 

“I know,” I yawn, “And I’ll try my best to make you happy too.”

 

Drifting off to sleep easily in my new home I’m impressed at his ability to condition me to this, he’s very good at it, I’ve never slept as well as I have before I agreed to be with him.

 

My last thought is to wonder at what else he’s conditioning me to do and if I can do the same to him.


	43. Chapter 43

That line of hard heat is against my back and I try stretching out in his arms, twisting around I force him onto his back which gets a grunt out of him and I flop partly over his chest.  Under my ear his heart beats steadily and those calm breaths soon get me dozing off in his arms.

 

Only to wake up to the sound of a phone ringing, damn hotels and their wake up calls, but the phone isn’t in our room, and I remember yesterday in a rush.  Peter’s groaning and waking up too so I slip out of the bed and stumble out into the big room to find the hand held landline phone, for a moment I hesitate and then I think fuck it, this is my home too, I can answer the phone if I want to.

 

“Y’ello,” I mumble a greeting and get silence down the line, “Hey anyone there?” I ask.

 

“Sorry,” a man says nervously, “I was looking for someone else, I must have the wrong number.”

 

“’S’Cool,” I tell him, and we exchange ritual goodbyes, putting the phone down I scratch my belly and decide I need to pee, so of course the phone goes again.  Grabbing it I answer with a more comprehensible, “Hello.”

 

“Oh,” it’s the same man, “Sorry, right, I think someone’s stolen the number I want, wow, I thought my anti fairy methods were working…”

 

Fairies?  Taking a gamble I ask him, “Are you looking for a Peter Hale? ‘Coz this is his house…”

 

And then Peter is there taking the phone from me and pulling me into a hug, he gets the phone fairly close to both of our ears and says, “Hello Blue, this is Peter, and you were just speaking to Stiles, he’s my new human mate and he’s a human Alpha, you can trust him.”

 

So whoever it is knows about the things that go bump in the night and I listen in as the man says, “Peter?  Really, I heard rumours that there was a thing with Marianne, but you know I stay out of my Alpha’s way, she scares me but she doesn’t beat me like my last Alpha did.”

 

I get to spend five minutes silently eavesdropping as Peter calms the werewolf down promising that I won’t suddenly appear at Blue’s to beat him to within an inch of his life and then try to skin him alive, “Believe me Blue, Stiles is a very gentle young man, I trust him implicitly,” and that bowls me over right there, Peter trusts me.

 

Okay he’s possessive and has a jealous streak a mile wide but it still means a lot to me that he said that.  He trusts me, he doesn’t think I’m in the way, he’s not obsessing over someone else because he’s too busy obsessing over me.

 

“Hmm, give me a moment Blue, let me get a pen and paper to write the details down,” and I get ushered into the office so Peter can put down some strange words, “Yes Blue, I’ll look into it and I’ll let you know how the auction goes, if we get the item I’ll send it to the normal address and our normal terms apply.”

 

The phone gets held out to me, “Blue would like to say hello,” and Peter’s serious so I take the phone.

 

“Hello Blue,” I chirp happily wondering at my life.

 

“Hi Stiles, sorry I was a bit weird but you can’t be too careful, next time I’ll know you could answer the phone and I’ll leave a message with you for Alpha Peter.  That’s okay isn’t it?  Are you okay with me leaving a message with you?” He’s starting to sound panicked and upset.

 

“Blue, I would be happy to take a message from you for Peter,” and that gets me a smile from Peter.

 

“Oh, okay, thank you Stiles,” and the phone goes dead.

 

“Yes thank you Stiles,” Peter takes the phone again, “Blue is a brilliant antiques hunter, but he can’t cope with people anymore, I’m glad he felt safe enough with you that he offered to leave a message with you, it took me weeks to get him to even talk to me.”

 

“Well you are more dangerous than me,” I joke meaning every word.

 

“True,” Peter puts the phone back and then motions me to follow him to the kitchen where he starts making us breakfast, “But Blue is that rarest of werewolves, he’s a Bitten who was Omega, became Beta, rose to Alpha and he was a damn good Alpha, it took a massive betrayal in his pack coupled with some witches and a sea monster to topple him.  The new Alpha was very unkind and makes me look nice,” I wince at that, “So he fell to Beta then Omega and ran from his old pack.  Marianne took him in but the damage had been done and Blue will never be who he used to be.”

 

“Peter that sucks,” I frown, “I thought Alphas had to die to pass on their mojo to the next in line or the werewolf that kills them.”

 

“No, it can be stolen, but it’s frowned upon and Klaus will never have the standing that the Alpha that used to be Blue had, he will always be ridiculed for being a pet to witches, even though he’s killed them now and eaten them.  He’s a very bad Alpha, and neither of us will be going anywhere near his territory, he’s an Oathbreaker.”

 

Wow.  Breaking oaths is a huge thing in the not as human as me world.  That’s why most of them stick to promises, because things can go wrong and promises can be broken but an oath is something else.  It doesn’t matter if the world gangs up on you and it’s not your fault the oath gets broken, you’ll still be judged on it, so very, very few people swear oaths.

 

“Okay, happy to stay away from him,” I agree and it’s fascinating to observe Peter cooking, all his movements are precise and he’s so in control of what he’s doing, everything is orchestrated just so, like magic, or really good organisational skills on a level most people aren’t capable of.

 

The omelette he makes me is fluffy and light and I lounge at the dinning room table inhaling it and uttering noises, “Dude, this is amazing, you are an amazing cook, damn am I glad I traded chores with you.”

 

“I’m glad you like it,” he’s preening and damn if he isn’t vain, I’ll keep that in mind.  “I was hoping you’d be up to going shopping for some school things today, and as today is now Saturday you can start school on Monday.”

 

“I’ve got nothing planned for today so shopping is good,” I chase the last pieces of food on my plate.

 

“Excellent,” he tidies up and I help him wash up, well I dry up and then he shows me where the crockery and cutlery goes.  “Are you ready for a shower? And I’ve been thinking about some new arrangements for that.”

 

“Yep,” and then I learn what the new arrangements he has in mind are, because he joins me in the shower, which is a whole new level of awkward. It’s a very naked level of awkward and I may stand there cupping my junk from his sight.

 

“Stiles, we’ve already had sex, and we’ve already showered together,” he’s calmly telling me, “I have no intention of doing anything to you while we wash, I promised you only once a week I will keep that promise, so is there a reason you don’t want me to wash your back?”

 

“No,” I lie, “I just wasn’t expecting to share my shower this morning,” and I flinch as he tries to soap my back again, it’s different when I’m not in shock and desperate to get clean.

 

“Stiles,” his tone is even and I scuff my foot on the shower tray.  “Is it linked to the scars on your back?”

 

“Kind of,” I mutter, “I’m also new at this showering together thing,” the only person I did that with was Derek and that was only the mornings after we had sex, Derek would help me wash up around my ass area, and the hot water tank was so useless we sped through the shower and our hands never strayed once.

 

“Oh Stiles,” a hand on my elbow turns me and then I’m engulfed in a hug, a naked hug, a wet naked hug.  “You are so young and I forget that people are so blind to your charms, how could anyone resist you?”

 

“Easily,” I pat his shoulder and a plan pings in my head, “How about I wash your back first?  Then we can try my back again?”

 

Letting go of me he spins around with a pleased smile and I’m faced with a very nice male back.  He’s not as ripped as Derek, but then other than Jackson who is?  Peter has muscle and it is defined but not over done.  “Um, can I kind of… Er that is…” Crap how do I phrase this, “What I mean is, my hands might get a bit handsy but I don’t mean it in a come on kind of way.”

 

“Okay,” he nods and I tentatively get some shower gel in my hands and starting at the top I rub his shoulders, then bring them down over his shoulder blades and this isn’t too bad, I can do this.  Further down I go and I’m totally washing a very naked hot guy who’s mine, whether I want him to be or not.  I can get with this program, and then I falter when I get down to his ass and I pull my hands away.

 

“All done,” and I turn my back on him and tense as his hands rub my shoulders, then go over my shoulder blades and he’s mimicking me, he’s totally mimicking what I did to him, he even stops higher up from my ass.  “Thank you,” I peek at him over my shoulder.

 

“You’re welcome,” he smiles at me as he tips his head back to wash his hair, and the rest of the shower is like the boys’ locker room, only warmer, and with less space and way more awkward.

 

I get to shave first and then he shaves as I dry off properly.  I’m slipping out of the bathroom to get dressed as he’s putting mousse in his hair and picking up the hairdryer.  I am so glad my hair is so short.

 

Rummaging in the built in wardrobe I discover he’s mixed my clothes in with his, there’s no me and him areas, they’re all together.  Grabbing some things I’m dressed and making the bed when he walks out naked and then poses looking at his clothes.

 

Unsurprisingly he picks out black jeans, socks and pants, and matches it with a red top and black over shirt.  And I thought Derek was simple in his colour co ordinations, which consist mostly of black on black or nearly black.


	44. Chapter 44

Having parked in the same parking lot as yesterday we walk to the shop he wants to go to and it turns out to be a clothing shop.  Apparently I need some more clothes for school and more sports stuff and a nice hoodie with the Wolf Creek high school basketball team motif on it, it’s in green though not red which offends my sense of humour, total little red riding hood moment spoilt.

 

I also get to see Peter in his natural element.  While we were travelling and in huge cities, where we wouldn’t meet people again, his very standoffish, cold, aloof behaviour was normal, even encouraged, plus I was scared of him, okay I still am but I’m learning his rules.  Here in his new hometown he’s acting the same way, but its way more obvious here and he’s standing out really badly.

 

No wonder no one likes him, and if the Sheriff’s any good at all with any cop’s instincts they’ll be blaring in her head and things are making more sense now.

 

Wandering along behind Peter as he moves through the shop, I stand relatively quietly as he holds things up against me and most things he puts back, a few he holds onto.  The shop assistants don’t assist, well one of them tried, timidly, Peter snarked at her and she scurried away.

 

Sighing I shift my weight and suddenly Peter’s there, “Stiles, are you alright?  You’re not too tired are you?” He glances at his watch, “Perhaps we should do this another time…”

 

Gasps are coming from the sales assistants openly spying on us, “Peter,” I cut him off, “I’m okay, just a bit bored clothes shopping is not normally my thing,” he looks at me like I’m the crazy one, “But I know it makes you happy and I like making you happy.”

 

I get that soft look from him and there are more gasps from the assistants, “Stiles,” he trails his fingers down my arm, “I promise just one more rail, then if you don’t mind modelling for me, we can move on.”

 

“Cool,” I nod and he’s back to flicking through a rail of clothes as something catches my eye.  Dream Jackson’s standing next to a man’s long sleeve t-shirt thing with buttons at the collar, and it’s in a really nice light blue colour.  Drawn to it I caress the fabric and it’s so damn soft.  It’s the kind of t-shirt thing that Peter wears and I wonder if I can get him to try it on.

 

The assistants are huddling together and I motion my head at them, the woman from earlier creeps over and I point to the t-shirt and then at Peter.  She seems to understand what I mean and rummages to pick out the right size for him, “Thanks,” I smile my biggest most innocent smile at her and then take the item back to Peter.

 

“Hey,” I tap him on the arm and hold the t-shirt out for him, “I found this for you.”

 

He eyes it up and shakes his head, “I don’t think it’s really you Stiles, but you can try it anyway…”

 

“No,” I interrupt, “I thought it would suit you Peter.”

 

That gets me a blink and he’s surprised, “I don’t normally wear blue…” He’s acting nervous again, off balance.

 

“I know, but listening to people, mostly girls, talk about clothes and stuff, well you have blue eyes and the t-shirt’s blue, so…” I shrug, “Is it the wrong blue? I can put it back if you don’t like it.”

 

“No,” his hand stops me moving off, “I’ll try it on, thank you Stiles,” and I get to stagger under the clothes he’s picked out for me as he gingerly holds the t-shirt with a soft expression.

 

At the changing rooms the sales assistant mentions that you can only take five items in at a time and she wilts under the death glare Peter gives her so I intervene, “Hey, that’s cool, you don’t mind if we put everything up here and then I’ll try them on in fives,” I steamroller over to the hanging rail near the changing rooms and hang all of my stuff up, taking five things I point to Peter, “Sit, I’ll be out in a minute,” then I vanish into the closest cubicle.

 

Dream Lydia is waiting for me and she approves of the first t-shirt I pull on, she gives me a thumbs up as I walk back out to model for Peter, who has sat down nearby.  He lifts a hand and twirls his finger, obediently I turn on the spot, “I like that one on you,” he says.

 

“And we have a keeper,” I joke and wink at him, the sales assistant is hovering nearby and she nods agreeing with him.

 

And this is totally different to Salt Lake City, because one by one the sales assistants drift over and it becomes really interactive, there are conversations on colour and size and fit and shapes that I don’t understand but Peter is drawn in, against his will, and by the end of it I have a pile of clothes that are approved by everyone, even dream Lydia.

 

Strolling out I hand the last few items to the sales assistant and she smiles putting them in the keep or the put back pile as already agreed, “Thanks,” I grin at her and this wasn’t so bad, just as long as we don’t have to do it too often, then I turn to Peter, “Your turn honey,” I use the endearment and wave at the cubicle I’ve vacated.

 

A raised eyebrow from him and he gets to his feet, passing me he mutters, “Honey?”

 

Smirking I nod and then collapse to sprawl in the seat he was using. A few minutes later he comes out and the t-shirt fits everywhere it should, the colour does something, softens him, changes him to the man who’s been so nice to me, “Oh yeah we’re taking that one,” I blurt and my jaw’s dropped, it gets a bitch look from him, “Peter I don’t care if you never wear it outside of the house, but damn you are going to get it,” there’s no justice in this world if he leaves that behind.

 

For a second I forget he’s the crazy Alpha and can rip my throat out with his little pinky without breaking a sweat, but he’s amazing in that t-shirt and a few of the sales assistants giggle, one of them says, “My sister’s husband is like that, there’s a lot of clothes she wears just for him,” and then I realise exactly how I’ve just come across and flush bright red which only makes the giggling louder.

 

“Hmm,” Peter’s tilted his head and has his fake smile on, “Just this once,” he concedes and there’s a gleam in his eye that lets me know I’m going to pay for this later, and the assistants all giggle again.  “Though perhaps I should wear it out if Stiles likes it so much…”

 

The original woman who helped me pats my shoulder and hurries to him, she snips out the label and he goes to get his other shirt.  He still looks amazing and as he walks over to the counter to pay I may be a bit caught up in watching his back and how the material does this clinging thing to the point I fall into the really big obvious rail of clothes and almost wreak the display fighting my way out, “Um, yeah, sorry,” I flail and Peter has to rescue me from the clothes hangers.

 

Four assistants are drafted in and I’m used to being clumsy and the centre of humiliating attention from screwing up but they’re laughing at me and there maybe the odd innuendo or two from them about lack of blood in my brain due to the sexiness of my boyfriend in THAT t-shirt.

 

By the time Peter’s paid for all the clothes and handed me the bags to carry, he’s in a genuinely good mood, that soft smile is back on his face and we get waves and cat calls from the staff wishing us well.

 

“Oh my god,” I breathe out in the street and he lifts an amused eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry Peter, that got out of hand…” and I trail off as he shrugs his coat on and smoothes his hands over his stomach.

 

“So you really like the t-shirt,” he states.

 

“Yeah,” my jaw has dropped again.

 

“Good,” and we go to the Hummer to drop the bags in, I may or may not stand so I can see him leaning into the trunk to put the things away, which exposes his side and the t-shirt rides up.  Part of me is a bit sick and nauseous but the other part of me remembers the gentle kisses and touches, and he’s promised I have a week until we try out the shower that way.

 

Biting my lip I’m staring when I realise he’s finished and he laughs delightedly at me, “Oh Stiles,” he locks the car with a beep and grabs my hand, “Time to get you some other school supplies.”

 

“’Kay,” I mumble and let him drag me along with him baffled at why I’m so obsessed with him in that shirt.


	45. Chapter 45

Several shops later I’m mentally cursing the t-shirt.  He’s been using it to his advantage, for some reason it has the ability to derail my brain and he’s taken as many opportunities as he can to get his own way by posing in the t-shirt.

 

He’s subtle.

 

Very subtle but I’m not mad at him because every shop we’ve been in has started out not liking him and when we leave they’re all amused at us and he’s being accepted by the town, we’re blending in better.

 

If people are warming up to him then the Sheriff won’t dig into his past and we should be able to settle in to Wolf Creek with the minimum of fuss.

 

Happy at that thought I go with him to the Farm Store it’s our last stop and he forgot the fresh ground coconut yesterday and Peter is adamant it’s important, and then a few more things get put in our basket.  People skitter away from us again but there’s whispering too and a few giggles.

 

At the checkouts we’re served by the woman I’m assuming is Gladys, who gossiped to Larissa, and who is blushing when she looks at us, so I’m going to assume that Larissa gossiped about yesterday and catching us in bed.

 

For a few seconds I think I’m going to get out of this particular encounter with my dignity almost intact, but then Peter bends over to pick up a coin that someone else dropped and it’s rolled over to him.  I’m in the middle of packing up the groceries when the extra carton of milk, Peter wanted it for the rice pudding he’s making from scratch later, explodes in my hands. I may have squeezed it too hard.

 

Peter’s instantly by my side and fussing over me which draws an even bigger crowd of people.  Gladys is clearly in her element and is telling everyone in the most innuendo-ridden way what happened and she’s turning it into a euphemism with ease.

 

Ushered off to one side by the manager I’m helped to clean up and Peter bats anyone else’s hands away to do the job himself.  A free complementary carton of milk is fetched for us and I can finally leave the Store with my pride and ego effectively dead and buried.

 

Even in Beacon Hills things weren’t this bad, mostly because no one thought I could get anyone interested in me, though the discussion regarding the chains and how stalking and kidnapping people wasn’t the way to go with Coach Finstock is a highlight I’d rather forget.

 

“Oh my god,” I mutter and happily climb into the Hummer to escape people, though I’m fairly sure the rumour mill is churning, oh god no, no dairy puns, not even in my own head.

 

“Home?” Peter asks me, “Or we could go somewhere else for you to draw attention to yourself again…” And he’s back to being pissed at me.

 

“Home,” I whine sliding down the seat and I sweat nervously the whole way home. 

 

Parking up he throws me the house keys, “Go and shower, you reek of milk,” and then he’s picking up all the bags so I scurry inside and flee to the shower having remembering to kick off my shoes so I don’t track mud in the house at the last second.

 

Nabbing new clothes I go and shower, though I daren’t hang around in there too long, Peter might come in and ‘help’.  Dried and dressed I sneak out trying to work out where he is and what’s upset him so much.  He was in a good mood until I showered myself in milk.

 

And I really want to blame him for that.

 

“Stiles,” he’s sitting on the big couch, “Come and sit here, we need to discuss your behaviour today,” so I edge into the room and sit as far away from him as I can because his eyes are glowing red.

 

“Hey Peter,” I point to my eyes, “Um, your eyes…”

 

He breathes deeply and the glow fades. I really want to stay where I am but if he’s angry with me then I need to work on the ‘Relationship’ to calm him down and protect myself.  Scooting slowly along the couch I reach out with a hand that shakes slightly and I touch his knee.

 

“Peter,” I tramp down my fear and focus as much as I can on being calm so I fall back on happier memories like waking up this morning and going back to sleep on top of him, “Peter, talk to me, please.”

 

Nodding he pats my hand gently, “Yes, talk, we talked in the Willows and we fixed things didn’t we.”

 

I nod enthusiastically at his statement because talking then meant he didn’t kill me or anyone else and I totally got a bath out of it, and kissing, there was lots of kissing in the morning, and Peter’s staring at me, “Sorry, got distracted and off track,” I mutter.

 

Whatever he can see or smell seems to be the right thing because his shoulders are relaxing, “That’s fine Stiles,” and his hand moves to cradle mine in his.  “Stiles, I know you’re young,” he says softly and he’s picking his words carefully, “And younglings need more attention than adults do, so the fact you made a spectacle of yourself today is understandable.  I was more than willing to let it go, knowing that as you get older you’ll settle down more, but the milk?  Stiles I know you’re clumsy but I can’t believe you let people touch you in the Store after you covered yourself in milk.”

 

Blinking I automatically refute what he’s saying and then slam the brakes on my mouth so only a strangled nonsense noise comes out, holy crap I can’t just blurt things out right now I have to think, I have to pitch this right and I need more info pronto.

 

“So…” I drawl, “Peter…” I nervously scrub my other hand over my face and I have to do this perfectly because I have a feeling this is going to set the tone for us living here.  Clearing my throat I put my other hand on the one he’s clutching mine with and start to play with his fingers doing my best to stroke his fingers, “Peter,” I try again and then get a flash of inspiration, “How about you tell me how each encounter we had today felt to you, and I’ll tell you how it felt to me, so we can each see the day through the other person’s eyes and we can make sure we don’t upset each other when we go shopping again,” and I’ll get more insight into him and gather more facts.

 

Squeezing his hand in my hands I look up to those blue eyes, “Because I know we’re both guys, but how we view things isn’t going to be the same…”

 

A blinding smile crosses his face, “Stiles, my wise Raven child,” he shuffles on the couch until he’s turned to me and I mimic him, it gives the illusion of intimacy and means I can stare into his eyes and hopefully gain clues on what sparked him off, other than jealously.

 

Lifting up my hands he kisses my fingers, “Very well my smart little mate, we will start with the clothing store.  Everything was going well until the bitch came over to you when you willingly wandered away from me,” he must mean the woman I asked about the sizing on the t-shirt for Peter.  “And even though she hovered nearby, it was clearly her job, but then the others there joined us and dared to comment on you and you preened under their attentions.  Then when I tried on the shirt you picked for me things went better, though I’m confused as to why you had to pull their attention back to you by tangling yourself in the clothing rail, and I’m simply grateful that they decided you were mine so completely by the time we left,” he’s getting upset at the end and his teeth are growing.

 

“Right, okay,” I swallow and wow I hadn’t realised he was so upset and I take a deep breathe praying I don’t screw this up, “When we walked into the clothing store I realised we had a problem on our hands,” he’s tilting his head, “Your natural Alpha instincts and attitudes were alienating people, making us stand out in a bad way, I was going to talk to you when we got home but then I noticed the t-shirt and it just felt right, but I didn’t know what size would be closest to yours as I’m really not that into clothes and you were so busy hunting for things for me and so happy I didn’t want to disturb you,” because a happy Peter is something I strive for. “So the reason I wandered away from you was to get something for you and the reason the woman was there was to help me.”

 

He thinks that over, “Go on,” he encourages his teeth returning to normal.

 

“And yes I admit I preened while trying on the clothes because I saw these people who…” crap how do I put this?  Oh, that will do perfectly, “Who live in your territory and didn’t like you or think much of you come over and they praised YOUR choices and ideas.  Because you have a damn good eye for colour and fit and shape and things I have no clue about.”  I go back to stroking his fingers, “I liked the way they looked at you by the end, I liked that they liked you, that there was bantering, even if it was at my expense.”

 

“You weren’t jealous?” He asks frowning.

 

“No,” I laugh at him, “Dude, I know I have no amazing alluring powers, no matter what you tell me, but you picked me Peter, you have a crazy cupboard full of me, you hold me and cuddle me, not them,” and I smile sensing a victory point, “Peter, I trust you,” he startles and studies me, “I trust you to be faithful to me, and I may possibly want to rub peoples’ faces in the fact that Stiles Stilinski loser and all round odd ball managed to land you.”

 

He’s gone quiet so I press ahead guessing and working on instinct, “And I may have overstepped the boundaries with the shirt, but it’s an amazing shirt and there’s something about the colour and I got ambushed by the clothes rail because I was too busy staring at you,” I can feel the heat of the blush on my face, “And the milk may have exploded because you bent over,” I look away from him and study the ceiling which is white and very uniform with no cracks.

 

“Oh…” Is all he says and he blinks several times trying to wrap his head around that, “So the other shops were the same? I noticed your jaw dropped a lot if I stood in certain ways…”

 

“Dude you were totally posing in that t-shirt,” I accuse him, “Unfair advantage man, not cool.”

 

There’s a pleased smile playing over his lips, “Oh Stiles,” he sounds fond, and then he’s straddling my lap, pinned into the couch I sit there and put my hands on his hips, “I’m glad we talked, and we’ll do this more often, see through each other’s eyes, that was a very good idea you had,” he says as I slide my arms around him slowly go for a hug, a hug he embraces happily.

 

A happy Peter is an excellent result and I breathe more easily, the only thing is that hugging means my face and hands make contact with the seriously soft t-shirt and I may nestle into it, Peter murmurs, “Really?  You like the t-shirt that much?”

 

“Soft,” I mumble and then add, “But no, you in the t-shirt is what I like that much.”

 

Nuzzling into my neck he smiles and all is well in the Hale-Stilinski household.


	46. Chapter 46

Saturday afternoon is going so well that I’m humming as I put our washing in the machine and measure out the detergent.  Peter’s puttering in the kitchen nearby and life is good.

 

Spinning the dial on the machine I press the start button and as I’m by the big window leading out to the decking I peer into our garden feeling fidgety and needing to explore a bit more.

 

The washing has an hour or so to go and I nab my shoes and Peter’s coat from the other day, “Hey Peter, just going to look at the garden,” I call out and vanish out the door.

 

I’m standing on the decking near the kitchen door and it’s roofed over on this part so it’s sheltered, walking towards the lake side of the house the roof stops and the decking is uncovered and bare to the elements.

 

Leaning on the railings I look about and our garden really is only grass, no flowers, and only a few trees or big bushes separating us from our next-door neighbour way over there, which leaves us with plenty of privacy.

 

Tromping down the few steps to the grass I amble over to the lake and the grass fades to pebbled stones, mud and sand.  Kicking some of the stones with my foot I grin when most of them appear to be excellent skimming stones.  I’m a champion stone skimmer.

 

Dream Scott turns up and sighs, “Please Stiles, please come home,” I shake my head at him because this thing between me and Peter isn’t that bad, and I refuse to drag the insane Alpha werewolf home so my family and pack to have to deal with him.  “I love you,” the sneaky dream best friend says and I sigh because I love him too and always will.

 

Stalking over to the jetty I test each board before walking on them and I stare out over the lake, “Fine,” my dream friend has followed me, “Just know that I’m here for you no matter what and...” he vanishes mid sentence and that itch between my shoulders starts up.

 

Twisting around I find Peter is standing inside by one of the windows watching me so I wave to him and on impulse blow him a kiss, it earns me a swift smile and then he’s gone again.

 

“You need to be more careful of him son,” Dream dad is there and he joins me as we gaze across the water, “He’s unstable, he’s possessive, all the evidence suggests he’ll view anyone even standing near you as a threat to his claim on you,” I nod at his words, “Come home,” I shake my head at that, “Then stop reacting Stiles, stop letting him call the shots and control this ‘Relationship’,” he air quotes because he’s a figment of my imagination and knows what I know, “You have to start training him the way he’s training you, it’s going to be just the two of you son, he won’t let you have friends, he’ll cut you off from anyone and everything to keep you...” And he vanishes mid sentence just like dream Scott did.

 

Turning again I find Peter’s back at the window, I wave again and then flail a bit as I try and get the non verbal ‘view is awesome’ to him, he simply smiles and goes again.

 

And then dream Dad’s words penetrate and I mentally go over a checklist of abusive relationship red lights and one of the big ones is being cut off from everyone that you know, something I’d managed to do by screwing up my life and now Peter’s finished off by dragging me to the other side of the country.  Going over comments he’s made about people and the way he’s viewed my interactions I have no choice but to confront the realisation that I am going to have a problem with Peter’s possessive and jealous tendencies.

 

Other things pop up like him not wanting me to go to the toilets on my own, of not showering alone, and Peter hinting about spending lots and lots of time together, I think what he actually meant was all our time together.

 

Crap.

 

At least I’m used to hanging around Scott and not having friends because the most I’m going to be allowed to have are acquaintances, so I’m going to have to work on Peter and talk him into doing stuff outside of the house that isn’t walking in the forest.  Maybe we can do date nights or something.

 

“Come on Batman,” dream Erika’s grinning as she leans against the house, “It’s a start but we both know you haven’t brought your A game yet,” she flickers in my view ducking to one side of the house and then Peter’s by the window nearby.

 

Jogging over I tap on the window, “You want to skim stones?” I call to him and he shakes his head, “Okay,” and then I walk around the side of the house passing dream Erika who pats my shoulder and I go inside.

 

“Did you have fun?” Peter’s tense as he moves towards me.

 

“Yep,” I smirk at him, “Have you seen the stones out there?  Perfect for skimming and the jetty thing is going to be an amazing diving board in summer, and I bet we can sit out there and eat when it’s nicer, or hey, can we grill out there? Or just lounge on the grass, or use water pistols, or wow, so many plans for us Peter,” I’m careful to emphasis the ‘we’ and the ‘us’.

 

He’s smiling again, “Yes Stiles, lots of things for us to do,” and he hums the tune I was humming earlier as he goes back to messing about in the kitchen.

 

I need to do some research on this thing between us, I need to understand some more things about surviving abusive relationships because I’m under no illusions, he’s going to be abusive but it’s going to be mental, emotional and perhaps sexual.

 

The fact I’m trusting him or even looking to him for support and comfort is either a really bad thing or an unbelievably good thing, I’m sure when it came to Stockholm and battered spouse stuff that me getting emotionally attached to him is a good thing for my survival in the long term, plus he’ll smell the emotions on my skin too.

 

Padding through to the office study area I start unpacking my new schoolbooks and pens and things we got today.  Occupying myself I begin to colonise the bit of the office he said was mine.  I have my chair, my power leads for his macbook, my I-Pad and I eye up his chair that’s near mine and stifle a sigh, I’m simply going to have to get used to being around him all the time.

 

I daren’t check out what I want to on the internet here, if the High School is any good it’ll have internet connection and I’ll have to ‘borrow’ someone else’s user name and password, I don’t want my name and the searches I want to run anywhere near each other, just in case, and oh god I’m turning paranoid now too.

 

The washing machine interrupts me a few times as I put the finishing touches to my new bag and my new school stuff and then I voluntarily do the ironing, it means I can listen to my I-Pod and be in the same room as him without worrying I’m upsetting him by ignoring him.

 

Hitting my zen place I’m caught up in the placement of sleeves so I can run the iron over them with the minimum of fuss, while swinging my ass to the music, I’ve got it on low so it won’t annoy Peter too much.

 

Slipping the last of Peter’s shirts onto a hanger I switch off the iron and go to empty it of water in the sink when I notice that Peter’s no longer in the kitchen.  He’s sitting at the dinning room table watching me with a mug of what I assume is some kind of hot beverage, there’s a plate with biscuit crumbs on it, so he’s been there for a while.

 

“Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you was I?” I ask a bit creeped out but then creepily lurking and watching people is totally a Hale thing.

 

“No,” he reassures me, “I was happy to watch you,” and yep creepy.  “I like watching you.”

 

“Good,” I nod because him liking that means him probably being happy about not killing me and leaving my body to be eaten by woodland creatures and then I blurt, “Wait do you watch me when I sleep?”

 

“Not normally, I’m usually asleep too,” he answers.

 

“Oh,” I set the iron down to cool and pack the ironing board away, then I take our freshly laundered clothes and carry them through to our wardrobe and guess at where they should go.

 

A little bored now I’m not sure what to do but Peter is still sitting there watching me unblinkingly, it’s unnerving and I point to the big plasma TV, “Hey you wanna watch some TV before dinner, and then maybe go for a walk?”

 

To think of those fear drenched moments after Scott was bitten when I bitterly wished for some peace and quiet.  When things happened one on top of the other and I simply needed one breath I could take to keep going, and now I’m bored because I’m stuck inside watching TV.

 

With Peter.

 

Who’s plastered himself against my side as we sit on the couch and he’s holding my hand.

 

Dream dad’s words crash in on me and this really is it for the rest of my life, suddenly Peter’s sniffing and turning to me, “Stiles?”

 

“Hey,” I can’t possibly lie to him and I think I’m going to have to embrace the Stockholm to live my life with him, “Bad thoughts Peter, just bad thoughts, sorry,” I tag on the apology.

 

“It’s okay Stiles,” he tucks in closer to me, “I’m here now, everything is going to be just fine.”

 

“Yeah,” and it will be even if it kills me, with that cheery thought I tune back into the TV show we’re watching together.


	47. Chapter 47

Dozy and sleepy I wiggle in Peter’s arms and flop him onto his back so I can flop over his front and go back to sleep.  This time the phone doesn’t ring and I get to have a lay in.

 

Fingers are running soothingly over the nape of my neck and I yawn into Peter’s chest as I finally start to come around this Sunday morning.  Peter’s wide-awake and he’s watching me sleep like the creeper he is.  It’s freaking me out a little and it’s something else I’m going to have to get used to.

 

“Morning,” I murmur at him.

 

“Good morning Stiles,” he murmurs back never once stopping the fingers on my neck, it really does feel good but I’m starting to fidget, “Ready for a shower?” And I’d love to be able to yell no and flee but I nod.

 

This morning’s shower is less traumatising because I’m ready for it and I wash him first and then endure him washing me.  At least my back is going to be the cleanest it’s ever been.

 

Breakfast is quiet apart from me scoffing down his offerings of food and the werewolf can really cook pancakes, his are drizzled in honey.

 

And then we run out of things to do after we wash up.

 

Somehow we end up on the sofa and he sits near me and stares.

 

And he stares some more.

 

There’s more staring after that.

 

All the niceties he used when we were travelling are starting to fall away until there’s only Peter. Though I’m sure he’s hiding things from me; it’s Peter. And I’m convinced that I can’t survive a life of sitting here and being stared at.

 

Clearing my throat I throw out an opening gambit of, “Want to explore the town?”

 

“No,” he answers and stares without blinking.  How the hell is he not blinking?

 

“Why not?” I ask confused really wanting to get out and about.

 

“Yesterday we had to go into town so you could get things for school and I could get more food.  Today we need nothing from the town, so we won’t go into town.  Besides there are people there and I don’t want to share you anymore than I have to,” his hand takes mine and cradles it gently.  “You really are all I need Stiles.”

 

Aw crap.

 

I literally can’t do this with him if we only stay here and he stares, so I try a different tack, “What about our Date Nights?” Like we’ve already agreed to them instead of never having had the conversation.

 

“What date nights?” He’s frowning.

 

“Well, I’ve never been on a date before and you’ve done so many couple-y things with me, like holding my hand,” I squeeze his gently, “We’ve shared food off of each others plates, rested our hands on the others leg, hugged, snuggled in bed, watched TV in bed, done a road trip together,” I’m listing things in the vain hope that he volunteers for Date Nights, even once or twice a week would be a major concession on top of all the breaks he’s already giving me.

 

The frown gets bigger and then he tilts his head, “You’ve never been on a date?” He’s surprised.

 

“Dude, Peter, you were my first kiss, no ones wanted to kiss me let alone date me before,” maybe I can pull a pity card with him, “The other werewolves I was with only wanted a warm body, you’re the only person who’s wanted me for me,” And it’s all one hundred percent true.

 

“Stiles,” He moves closer, “Would it make you happy to go on these Date Nights?”

 

“Yes,” Is my immediate answer, “I don’t care if we sit in a movie theatre in the dark and watch crappy films, or go on picnics in summer, or maybe go on a boat trip like we did in Salt Lake City, or go bowling,” a memory surfaces from our very first shopping trip and I go for broke, “And you said you got me those suit things so we could go to plays and opera and art galleries which are Date Night things too,” I grin right into his face, “So will you?  Will you go on a date with me?” I bite my lip nervously, I really want him to agree to this.

 

“Yes…” he says and I may make a noise similar to a war whoop and then spring up to do a victory dance. 

 

My fist may do a pump motion as I’m yelling, “Oh yeah, take that world, Stiles Stilinski just got a date!”

 

Peter’s in such a good mood after that little performance from me that he even agrees to go out for the day, not far, and all by ourselves in the forest, I have a backpack on and it’s got sandwiches in it for later.

 

We cross the main road to the trees and they surround me and give me the balance and healing I need.  When we get out of sight of the road, Peter strips, gives me his clothes and changes shape.

 

He really is a monster, and no amount of special effects can ever relay how terrifying he is.  But he’s mine now and I don’t have to be afraid of him at the moment so I follow the path he’s found and stroll along as he flits about sniffing and scampering in a remarkably cute yet monstrous way.

 

A few times he points down other tracks and I change direction, he leads me to a small clearing by a stream and as if on cue my stomach rumbles.  The air definitely has that something that hints at winter so I’m glad of the blankets I’ve carried all this way, one I spread out on the ground, the other is to go around me.

 

Peter snuffles at the one of the floor and sprawls out on the fabric motioning for me to get closer, for a second I debate shaking my head but I take a deep breath and then ask, “You’ve totally got this under control right?  No mistakes, because I don’t want to bleed out in a forest, or be turned.”

 

He huffs and pats the blanket right in front of him so I take him at his implied word and settle down dragging the other blanket so it covers my legs.  Behind me Peter tucks in closer and this is a great thing because he radiates heat and I can curl up against him.  I’m still astonished by how he can grow so much taller and bulkier in this shape, he’s defying all science right now, but then he’s a werewolf so his default setting is to defy science.

 

Maybe Dr Fenris would know or be able to explain it.

 

Digging in the backpack I pull out the sandwiches and crack open the containers so we can share, and I get drinks and some healthy nibbles too.  Peter seems content to eat, drink, and sniff as he acts like my own personal space heater and I’m glad I brought the I-Pad with me.

 

I snuck something on it without him taking too much notice.

 

Dream dad said I needed to take the initiative so I’m going for my first big opening volley, the Date Night thing is good but at best it’s a skirmish in this relationship, if I can wrangle the dates right we’ll do public and private things to keep him as happy as possible and get me out and about.

 

But this is something special.

 

And I want to do this right.

 

The book loads up and I absently skip to the right part in the book, then I wait for us to finish eating, “Peter, thanks for the food that was amazing,” I tell him and he nods before he butts his head against my shoulder, I have to temporarily forget the big scary teeth in his mouth.  “Um…” no, no Scott idiocy right now, “I may have gotten something for you,” he glances at me, those red eyes catching mine and I smile shyly as I pick up the I-Pad and start to read about Frodo waking up alive in Rivendell and the narration of that magical place.

 

Stiffening beside me Peter’s eyes widen and then he relaxes as his eyes close and he listens to me read the Lord of the Rings to him.  It’s only a small fragment of the story but it’s a start.

 

Across the stream I see a flicker out of the corner of my eye.  It’s dream Scott and he paces on the other side of the water like he can’t get to me and as the others flicker into view one by one I end up reading not only to Peter but to them too.

 

Around us the forest sighs in the breeze and it’s peaceful in a way I never thought I’d get to have for myself.  This is something I could get used to.  Absently my hand reaches out and strokes down Peter’s thick muscled and furred arm.  He shifts slightly and then whines because I’ve stopped reading.

 

“Sorry,” I take a sip of the orange juice he packed, and then I carry on.

 

Most of me is focused on the book, on the words, on that place and that beautiful story where good ultimately wins over evil.  Another part of me is studying my dream family and pack.  It’s like they’re stuck over there, they can’t get to me and I realise that the common denominator of them not being around is Peter.

 

The way dream Scott popped out of view, the same with dream dad, the way dream Erika hid around the corner of the house from him to stay with me.  I suppose it makes sense, Peter is a living nightmare made flesh and they are my insubstantial living daydreams, he’ll trump them every time.

 

We stay there for most of the day and I’m happy, I’m genuinely happy, for a few precious hours real life is far away and I relax into Peter’s Alpha form.  When the light begins to fade he guides me home and starts making me dinner.

 

We have chicken tonight and he bends down to kiss my cheek as he places the plate right in front of me, “Thank you Stiles, thank you for reading that to me.”

 

“You’re welcome,” I beam at him and tuck in.  I’m hopeful again, I’m hopeful things are going to not be awful, that they can be good.  Tomorrow I have my first day of school here, I’m sure I can hide out in the library and not make friends, I managed to not make friends really well in Beacon Hills, apart from Scott but he doesn’t count because he’s my brother, and then again in Sacramento I was friendless.  I’m sure I can make acquaintances though and that will have to do, it’s not like I’m used too much more anyway.

 

Under the table Peter’s foot touches mine and I don’t move away from him I smile and keep eating the awesome chicken as darkness falls outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Living Dreams and Nightmares, I hope you like the next in the series, Battered Dreams and Nightmares.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my story and thereby boosting my story hit stats, thank you for any and all Kudos you gave me and thank you for the many fabulous comments you left (I’ve loved every last one of them), you have all made it fun and a joy to write for you.


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